#she can blame nobody but herself

[alwaysanovice]

Once again thinking about the implications of the line "It was your choice. Remember that."

@theviolettulip

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 169

this is it, the dynamic

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 in between : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

I just can't come in between them, they got their own thing ʚĭɞ or 6 times people thought they were dating + the 1 time it was actually true.

"So, you're dating?" the new camper looks between her and Percy after they gave him the tour around camp.

Ah, the long awaited question.

And the answer is always the same. "No, we're friends, why?"

Once again, the camper looks between her and Percy, who's standing just behind her with his arms wrapped around her shoulders, her head comfortably resting back on his chest. "Oh, nothing, I just thought—"

Yes. Everyone just thought. Everyone just thought they were together, and everyone was always shocked when it turned out they were merely friends.

Percy and her couldn't understand it at all, because it was totally normal for friends to act the way they acted with each other. Right?

ʚĭɞ the ponytail.

It is, obviously, totally normal for friends to want to help each other out before combat. So, of course Percy knows exactly how to tie her hair into a perfect ponytail. Doesn’t everyone know that?

Who can blame him if he knows his best friend so well that he can easily notice her discomfort with her hair falling on her face when she's sparring? And who can blame him if he wants to help? That's what best friends do.

So he didn’t see anything wrong when he stood behind her after they called for time out, his fingers gently carding through her hair, gathering it into a ponytail, twisting it with practiced fingers and securing it with the hair tie that he just happens to have on his wrist.

"Thanks, Perce." She says, as if it's nothing out of the ordinary.

"Dude, how do you even know how to make a ponytail to begin with?" Leo asks when he hangs back and she goes back to sparring.

"She hates when her hair falls on her face." He shrugs, as if that's enough explanation.

Leo doesn’t understand, he doesn’t try to, he simply shakes his head and says, "You do realize you're in love, right?"

But Percy isn't even hearing, his eyes fixed on her and his smile growing when he sees her more relaxed without her hair bothering her.

ʚĭɞ the necklace & hairtie

Yes, it is completely normal that she wears his best friend's initial around her neck. Totally normal.

It isn't even that noticeable, just a small, golden "P" that rests on her collar bone. Cute and meaningless. She just likes jewelry. This one she especially likes, since she wears it every day.

Clarisse has never noticed it before, but now that she stands in front of her as they drink water after training, the gold necklace manages to catch her attention, sparkling under the sun tauntingly.

Clarisse squints her eyes at it. "Is that... a 'P' in your necklace?"

She lowers her water bottle and smiles, and oh— Clarisse already knows what's coming just by the silly smile on her face. "Yes, for Percy."

"How is that-" Clarisse stops herself with a sigh. "Nevermind."

She's tired of questioning it.

And Percy? He adores the necklace, but he also loves the hair tie he always has on his wrist. Because friends should be prepared for when their best friend needs a hair tie, of course. There’s nothing else to it.

People don't realize at first, it's a simple black hair tie. But Percy fiddles a lot with it during meetings, snapping it against his skin when he's bored. And he doesn’t let anyone take it or borrow it from him, "anyone has an extra hair tie?" and he's silent because he's sure as hell not giving his.

Nobody really understands why until he ends up losing it and he's frantically looking around for it as if it's such a precious object he just lost and not a simple hair tie.

"Hey do you know if I left the hair tie in your cabin last afternoon?" He asks her when they sit together for breakfast.

"No, but you can have this one if you want." And it's that simple. He nods. And she takes it off her hair to give it to him.

This one is not even a black hair tie, but rather a lilac scrunchie that definitely clashes with his orange camp shirt. But Percy is grinning like a child opening christmas gifts, and you best believe he won't lose this one.

"Is that her scrunchie on his wrist?" Katie Gardner squints at him when he walks past her table.

"Yes, and he's wearing it like it's a promise ring."

ʚĭɞ the kiss on the cheek

And of course it's normal for her to greet him with a kiss on the cheek every time.

Hi? Kiss on the cheek. Bye? Kiss on the cheek. Training? Kiss on the cheek. Breakfast? Kiss on the cheek. Seeing him after capture the flag? Kiss on the cheek. It was simply her way of greeting. Him. Only him.

So when she was late for a cabin meeting and rushed past him with a distracted. "Morning, Perce!" without a kiss? Percy kind of froze. His eyes followed her as she walked away, looking like a kicked puppy, like a kid who's candy had just been stolen.

He proceeds to spend the rest of the day sulking. No sign of her around. No kiss on the cheek. By dinner, he's still weirdly quiet.

Grover asks first. "Dude, are you okay? you look like someone just stole your christmas gifts."

"She didn’t kiss my cheek today." He mumbles, more to himself than to his friends.

Piper almost looks like she wants to throw her fork to his head as she asks, "Is this whole thing just because she didn’t kiss your cheek?"

"Why didn’t she? Did I do something wrong?" And he's pouting, dramatically sad about it.

Grover raises an eyebrow at Annabeth, but before any of them can say anything else, she finally arrives, almost running to the table and taking her usual seat besides Percy.

"Sorry guys, had a busy day today." She excuses herself and then— like it's second nature, she leans to press a kiss against Percy's cheek. A greeting.

And every single one of his friends is able to witness the change in Percy's expression, the way his whole face just brightens. Long forgotten is the sadness and the sulking.

"How is this normal?" Annabeth shakes her head, going back to her food.

ʚĭɞ the wallet

Percy, as a good friend would, has memorized her usual order. "Chicken sandwich with no tomatoes and fries on the side, add honey mustard for those please."

"Does it change anything if I point out that you hesitated with your own order but not with hers?" Jason asks, looking at him as if he's simply ridiculous.

"That's what friends are for." Percy shrugs, taking out his wallet.

"So you know all your friends orders that way? I don't think-" Frank's words trail off when Percy opens his wallet. "What is that?"

Percy pulls out a few dollars before he realizes Frank is talking to him, his eyes fixed on the photo on his wallet. "Hm?" he looks down and he smiles at the photo. "Oh, that's y/n."

He proudly opens the wallet wider to allow both Jason and Frank to see the photo of little five year old y/n squinting at the camera with a wide grin, a bandaid on her nose. "Doesn’t she look cute?"

"I- uh- do you just carry it in your wallet?" Jason asks, genuinely taken by surprise. And he thought he could expect anything from those two.

"Well, yeah? she gave it to me ages ago." and he turns to pay.

Frank and Jason exchange looks and shake their heads in disbelief, meanwhile Percy is already busy. "Hey do you have those chocolate chip cookies with the colorful little sprinkles on top? She likes those."

ʚĭɞ the flowers and lipsticks

Friends get each other flowers, right? at least, Percy will if he casually spots flowers while shopping for groceries with her mom.

It's not his fault, they were just there.

A bouquet of pink lilies, her all time favorite flowers, right when he's walking past the flower stand. They are basically calling for him.

When Sally Jackson looks up from her cart and finds his son holding a bouquet in one hand and gummy worms in the other, she smiles to herself.

"Is there any special dates coming soon?" She teases, knowing exactly what this is about.

"Oh?" he looks down, as if he just realized he's holding flowers. "Oh these? they remind me of y/n, so I thought I might aswell get them for her."

Sally nods, she doesn't question it, she doesn't try to understand it. Because she already knows.

Except that sometimes it really is unbelievable that his son is so oblivious, Sally gets to realize this when she takes a lip balm from the racks by the cash register. "Maybe I should get y/n one of these, she likes them, doesn’t she?"

Percy hums, distracted by placing the groceries in the chekout belt. "Yep, but make sure to get the cherry-mint one, you know? the one in the little pot with the silver lid. She loves that one."

"Percy, how can you know how it tastes?"

Silence. For a second, Percy just stops mid-putting the bread down and realizes what he just did.

"I guessed." he replies simply.

Because he's not about to confess to his mother that he knows that's the lip balm she has been wearing since he kissed her for the first and only time when they were twelve. So what? they had just been friends who had never kissed anyone before. It just seemed fitting at the time that they should share their first kiss with each other.

And it was totally normal if maybe he simply made a mental note not to ever forget her favorite lip balm. Because he's a good friend.

"Perseus, you are unbelievable."

ʚĭɞ the date

Percy felt as if it was perfectly normal to be worried for his friend going on a date, worried to the point of sulking the entire day? completely normal.

Yes. She has a date. With some guy Percy didn’t even bother learning the name of. Percy had only focused on the sheer audacity of this guy to be charming enough to get her flowers— roses, seriously? and ask her out.

But it's normal for him to be a little protective over his best friend. That's all it is. He just doesn't want her getting hurt by some dude that didn’t even bother trying to know her favorite flowers.

That's the only explanation for the way he felt something inside him twisting when he saw her before she had to leave for the date, looking all pretty and smiling brightly to go out with some other guy.

That's why he doesn’t do much the whole day, he doesn’t train or joins his friends on their impromtu day at the lake. By the time the night falls, he has been on his cabin for hours, glaring at the ceiling for more time than he'd like to admit.

It's past lights out when there’s a soft knock coming from his door, and before he can even react, she opens the door and slips inside, still in that dress that looks like it's been made just for her, her heels clicking as she holds them in her hand.

Most of the times, she lingers on the door to wait for Percy to give her permission to step inside— as if he would ever tell her to leave. But not this time, this time she walks quickly and doesn’t even stop at the edge of the bed or sits like she always does.

No, this time she simply crawls into bed with him.

"Hey, how did-" He gets cut off when she suddenly wraps her arms around him, burying her face against his chest.

"Missed you." Her voice is muffled against his chest, but he's able to understand. "So much."

Percy wraps his arms around her waist almost instictively, pulling her closer to him. "You saw me this afternoon."

"Still missed you." She replies. "Especially after that date."

He chuckles softly, his fingers carding through her hair, her fingers curl slightly against his shirt, and he tightens his hold around her. And it feels right.

"Was it that bad?" He asks, keeping his tone light, as if he didn’t spend the whole day brooding.

"So bad." There’s no hesitance. "He talked about himself the whole night. Barely asked anything about me. And when he did, and I brought you up, he got all weird."

Percy's hands stopped on her hair for a second, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Weird?"

She shifted slightly, nuzzling her face against the crook of his neck. "He he told me that we should probably distance ourselves a little because people thought we were dating and he almost didn’t ask me out because of you."

"That's ridiculous." Percy laughs at that, but it even surprises him how forced it sounds, how his stomach twists again.

She pulls away now, barely really, just enough to look at him. "Yup, ridiculous, right?"

They both look at each other, her fingers still curled in his shirt, his arms still securely wrapped around her waist. And neither of them moves.

After a moment, he whispers, as if he couldn't allow himself to speak any louder because it might break the whole thing. "Have you ever thought that maybe... it isn't so ridiculous?"

His heart is pounding, his gaze glued to her, waiting for a response. "Yes, maybe it isn't ridiculous, maybe-"

Percy doesn’t let her finish her sentence, he can't. Because the moment she confirms what he has been thinking about, it's like his body moves instinctively, his lips suddenly crashing against hers.

Cherry-mint lips welcoming his like they've been waiting for this for a long time, his hand brushing over the delicate chain around her neck, fingers pausing just for a second on the tiny gold letter that hangs on it.

And it's exactly what it should be. Soft. Sure. Familiar. Comforting. And even better than that first time they kissed back when they were twelve year-old kids convinced that all they could ever be was friends.

ʚĭɞ the kiss.

The next morning, nobody notices the change— because there has not been any evident change in the way they act. Everyone just thinks that the clingyness, the kisses on the cheek, the hugs, are just part of the routine already.

Until they're getting ready for capture the flag and, as usual, Percy helps her with her ponytail. It isn't anything that people haven't seen already, No. So everyone just rolls their eyes at them, mumbling about how oblivious they are.

"How many more months do you think will take them to finally realize?" Clarisse mumbles, putting on her helmet.

"Who knows? It could be years, they-" Grover's words die on his mouth when Percy suddenly leans to kiss her.

Kiss her. Percy is kissing her. In front of everyone.

He doesn’t even realize that people have stopped to look at them, because as he pulls away, the only thing worth his attention is her smile as he says. "You'll do great out there, angel."

"I swear if you tell me you're only friends after that, Jackson." Leo tells him after she has ran off to go find her spear.

Percy chuckles, his smile bright, his eyes still fixed on her. "Friends? No, that's my girl."

[thecrimsondandelion]

I wish my dad liked me as much as he liked my awful fucking sister. She could commit arson and she’d still be his favourite

[baiwu-jinji]

After the arrests last year of danmei authors who published their works on the Taiwanese website Haitang, the authorities have allegedly arrested another 200-300 authors, many of whom took to weibo to share their experiences recently.

What struck me is how the authors always blamed themselves for not being cautious enough or being led astray by their financial needs, but nobody put the blame on the unjust rules and the greed of the authorities that led to their arrests - not that they would dare to. It's an utterly bizarre situation that, as a new danmei English license seems to be announced once every few days here on the other side of China's Great Firewall, within China the persecution keeps getting more rampant and the danmei community feels more and more cornered and frightened. Reality is always more surreal than fiction.

I translated some of the author's weibo posts, please see below:

“I knew I was being naïve and over-optimistic (about the repercussions of writing danmei), so I can’t blame anyone. Sometimes I want to resent society but then I’ll give up the thought. As for the criminal punishment, my view on it is still the same - I even feel that I’m different from those who engage in prostitution; after all, I made all this money by typing my stories word by word. Yet when I got into trouble, people talked about it as if I didn’t have to work for my income.” - This is from an author who wrote danmei because her family’s poor and she wanted to save money to travel. She got into a master’s programme before this and the programme kicked her out because of her arrest.

“Ever since I was little, I’ve always been the well-behaved golden child in my parents’ eyes. I had the best grades among my peers and won scholarships in both high school and university. When we visited family during New Year and other festivals, my parents were always proud of me in front of our relatives. But that day I shamed them thoroughly and the shame will always stick around...I love the characters I wrote very much, planning and creating their stores always brought me so much happiness and fulfillment. But a mistake is a mistake. I want to use my personal experience to admonish others - don’t try to go against the regulations in any way ever, don’t put yourself in the slightest bit of risk.”

“I’ve never felt this horrible in my entire life. I’ve always firmly believed that nobody in this world could be that bad. My rose-tinted glasses were broken along with my romantic expectations for the world. My values and outlook on life were shattered. When something like this happens, perhaps only the family of the author involved and the author herself would be hurt deeply! It’s just business for everyone else!”

This one’s written by the author’s sibling: “Another sleepless night. Tomorrow is the Dragon Boat Festival, and it’s been three festivals since we could be together...I’ve felt remorseful for countless times that I didn’t contact more people and I felt that I haven’t done enough. I prayed to the gods and the Buddha for more times in the past two months than in the past 30 years. Besides asking for the Heaven’s protection and blessing, what else can we do?...You supported yourself financially during university solely by doing part-time jobs. We’ve always put too much importance on money, and that’s how we allowed you to make a mistake.”

(link to the original weibo posts: https://x.com/whyyoutouzhele/status/1928763362541818266)

[fuddaround]

OBSESSED › paige bueckers x fem!reader

⌗ summary : paige and her secret girlfriend go to the draft together and paige doesn’t know how to keep her hands to herself.

⌗ warnings : degradation, strap, alcohol, risky, almost getting caught, car sex, strap(r!receiving), praise, quicky.

⌗ word count : 4.1k

⌗ kay’s notes : her outfits this night should go down in history books. i couldn’t tell if the first suit was brown or just dark purple so i just put brown

you step out the car and instantly feel every head turn, but there’s only one you care about.

paige is already halfway through a question with a reporter when she catches sight of you, her mouth stuttering mid-sentence like her brain just shut down.

“oh my god,” she mumbles, blinking way too slow. “what the hell are you wearing?”

you smirk, twirling slightly so the slit of your dress shows just enough leg. “a dress?”

“no, no, no. that’s not a dress. that’s a personal attack,” she mutters, dragging her eyes from your heels all the way up to your lips. “you tryna end me before i even get drafted?”

you shrug, walking up to her like you’re not hiding in plain sight, like the world doesn’t know yet that you’re hers. “you look kinda hot too, bueckers.”

“kinda?” she huffs. “i’m wearin’ a whole sparkly ass suit and you’re over here lookin’ like a sin. ma, i’m about to fail the press line.”

you glance around—cameras everywhere, reporters shuffling, but paige is locked on you like nobody else exists. her black nails clench the edge of her huge designer bag like it’s the only thing keeping her sane.

“stop lookin’ at me like that,” you tease, voice low. “you’re gonna make people suspicious.”

“then stop looking like that,” she fires back, eyes dropping again to your leg. “jesus christ. there’s a slit. there’s a thigh. i can see your damn thigh muscle. you tryna kill me?”

“it’s just skin, paige,” you say, pretending to be innocent.

she scoffs, stepping a little too close. “not when it’s your skin.”

her hand twitches like she wants to touch you so bad but knows she can’t. she’s sweating under her glittery brown blazer and you haven’t even touched her yet.

“we are not gonna make it through this night,” she whispers, leaning closer like she might kiss you right there. “i swear to god, you better not be wearin’ that to the after party.”

“why?” you blink, playing dumb. “you don’t like it?”

“i like it too much,” she mutters, licking her lips. “like, black heels? slit that high? i’m obsessed. actually, no. i’m in love.”

you giggle, but she’s dead serious. eyes dark, rings catching the flash of a camera as she moves like she might reach for your waist—then remembers where you are.

“you gotta stop,” she groans, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “i’m tryna look all professional and composed and you out here lookin’ like my walking weakness.”

you lean in so close your lips brush her ear. “good. i like you a little messy.”

“god, i can’t do this,” she breathes, stepping back like she needs distance or she’s gonna lose all control.

you pose for a few photos beside her, smiling like you’re just friends, like she didn’t just whisper the filthiest compliment under her breath.

“what was that?” you ask, biting your lip.

“i said,” she repeats, barely moving her lips, “if you keep standing that close to me i’m gonna fuck you on national tv.”

your eyes widen. “paige.”

“what? i’m not entirely serious,” she shrugs, fake-innocent. “blame the dress. and the heels. and your everything.”

she keeps sneaking glances like she’s trying to memorize the way your dress hugs your waist, the way your collarbone glows under the lights. she looks like she’s praying for self-control and losing hard.

“i’m losing it,” she murmurs, watching you laugh at something a reporter says. “i’m so losing it.”

you reach down, fix her chain that shifted sideways in the shuffle of cameras. “deep breaths, champion.”

she grins, but it’s desperate. “girl, i’m about to deep breath you against a wall.”

you gasp, eyes wide, but your body leans toward her like it wants the same thing. “you are so not slick.”

“i’m not trying to be,” she shrugs, stepping closer again. “but you gotta know… the second i can get my hands on you? it’s over.”

you smirk, brushing a finger along her ringed hand. “then let’s make this night go fast.”

she groans again, and the cameras catch her mid-eye roll, mid-thirst. she doesn’t care. not really.

not when you look like that. not when you’re hers and she can’t even touch.

you’re already at the table when she walks back in, lights dimming low as the show gets ready to start.

and then there she is—shirtless under a sparkly black blazer, skin glowing, chains resting perfectly on her chest, waves falling wild around her face.

“so?” she grins, hands in her pockets, eyes locked on you like nobody else in the room matters. “how’d i do?”

you just blink, mouth open.

because jesus, that’s your girlfriend.

“you’re insane,” you whisper, gaze dragging down her whole fit. “you look like sex.”

she laughs, but it’s low and cocky.

like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

“you like it?” she asks, standing right in front of your seat now, voice teasing.

you grab her hand and pull her into the chair beside you. “shut up before i climb you in front of espn.”

“say less,” she whispers, already sliding her palm onto your thigh under the table.

you flinch, eyes darting around, but she just smirks, thumb brushing slow over your skin like it belongs there.

like it’s not a secret, but something she’s ready to scream to the world.

her confidence is unreal—chin up, legs spread, one hand on you, the other resting casual on the table like she’s not minutes away from her whole life changing.

but all she cares about is how your dress rides up when she touches you.

“how long do i have to wait before i take you home and ruin you?” she murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “seriously. give me a number.”

you try not to shiver, faking a smile for the cameras pointed your way. “depends. how long you wanna last in dallas?”

she grins big, hand gripping your thigh tighter. “forever, if you come with me.”

and then—before you can answer, before you even process—her name is called.

“in the 2025 wnba draft the dallas wings select paige bueckers, university of connecticut.” the whole room goes wild, but she doesn’t look at anyone else.

she turns straight to you.

“holy shit,” you whisper, already standing.

she hugs you like she’s never gonna let go, arms locked tight around your waist, mouth pressed close to your jaw.

“baby,” she breathes. “we did it.”

you nod, eyes glassy. “you did it, p. i’m so proud of you.”

her hands won’t leave your back. her nose brushes yours.

“i love you,” she whispers, voice shaking.

you grip her tighter. “i love you too, champion.”

she almost kisses you. she almost does it—right there, in front of god, the league, and everybody.

but she pulls back at the last second with a smirk.

“gimme that hat,” she says quick, grabbing the dallas one off the table and shoving it on your head.

she loses it.

“yo,” she laughs, eyes glued to you as she walks toward the stage. “you look better in it than i will.”

you smile, legs crossed like a tease. “i look good in your stuff. your words, baby.”

you watched as she hugs her parents and geno and you couldn’t be more proud of your girl.

she’s grinning the whole way up to the mic, all dimples and chain sparkle, but her eyes keep darting back to you like you’re the only one who matters.

and yeah, she’s giving the most heartfelt speech ever—funny, real, humble—but her fingers twitch like they still wanna be on your leg.

like she’s counting down the seconds ‘til she can get back to you and finish what she started.

she’s back at the table like she never left, dallas hat tilted low, legs wide, hand right back where it was on your thigh.

“you miss me?” she mumbles, lips barely moving.

“you were gone for like two minutes,” you whisper back, laughing.

“too long,” she says, dead serious. “felt like years.”

you roll your eyes but your heart skips anyway. she smells like camera flashes and fresh cologne and nerves that only melt when she’s next to you again.

geno’s across from you both, chatting with her mom while her dad proudly records every moment on his phone. and meanwhile, paige is sliding her pinky under the slit of your dress like she’s tryna write a love letter on your skin.

“can you not?” you hiss, glancing toward her mom.

“what?” she smirks, eyes big and fake innocent. “my hands are cold.”

you kick her lightly under the table. she grins harder.

geno clears his throat and raises an eyebrow. “everything okay over there?”

“just peachy,” paige says, squeezing your leg. “really loving everything about tonight.”

you’re fighting a laugh, trying to stay composed, but then she leans in again—voice low, sultry.

“you know i almost kissed you when i hugged you, right?” she says. “like, actually kissed you. lips. tongue. the whole thing.”

you freeze for half a second. “i would’ve died.”

“i could’ve saved you,” she shrugs. “like mouth to mouth you know.”

“definitely,” you whisper, and the look you give her makes her visibly clench her jaw.

she has to get up again—interview number twenty or whatever—but she drags her fingers down your arm the whole way out of her seat like she’s starving and you’re the only meal that matters.

and when she’s walking away, she keeps turning around. even with all the lights, all the attention, all the noise—she’s scanning the crowd until she sees you.

you lift the hat, give her a little salute.

her whole face softens. like she’s home with just a look.

“i miss you.”

when she sits back down, she sighs like she’s finally breathing again.

“they tryna talk to me about my future,” she mutters. “girl, you’re my future.”

you blink. “okay, relax.”

“no,” she says, already slipping her hand back under the table. “you don’t get it. i’ve got it planned already.”

geno raises a brow again like he knows something’s going on, but you both just sip your drinks and smile like saints.

“you think he suspects us?” you whisper.

“he’s geno. he’s known since the third practice you came to,” paige says, eyes half-lidded as her fingers trail patterns on your knee. “man caught me starin’ at your ass mid-drill.”

you choke on a laugh and she nudges your foot under the table.

you stay like that for the rest of the night—smiling for cameras, clapping for draftees, making eyes when no one’s looking.

and every time she leaves, she’s counting the seconds till she can crawl right back beside you.

hand to your thigh. lips to your ear. heart in your hands.

you’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting the tiny blue straps of your dress for the after party when you hear the door click shut behind you.

“my god,” paige says instantly, voice already hoarse. “you’re really wearing that?”

you smirk, not even turning around. “yes i am.”

she’s in the afterparty outfit—white button-down half unbuttoned, sparkly gray plaid pants low on her hips, dallas hat, silver chain sitting pretty on her collar.

but she’s looking at you like you’re dessert.

“spin,” she says, stepping closer. “like all the way around.”

you do, slow. the dress sparkles like you’re wrapped in stars, barely covering your ass, hugging every curve, back out, legs on full display.

paige groans, already adjusting herself. “yeah, i’m not gonna make it through the night.”

you bite your lip. “then don’t.”

she’s on you in seconds. presses you against the counter, hat bumping your forehead as she leans in close.

“you did that on purpose,” she whispers, hands running down your sides. “you knew what that dress would do to me.”

“uh huh,” you hum, grabbing her chain and pulling her even closer. “and it worked.”

her breath stutters. eyes drop down your chest, then lower.

“counter, now.” she mutters, pulling you up the wrist like she’s out of time.

you giggle the whole time, sitting on the bathroom counter watching her walk to lock the door.

“stay still” she commands, and you do—perch right on the edge of the counter, legs parted just enough to tease.

she drops to her knees like she’s praying. like you’re the only god she’s ever worshiped.

“lemme look at you,” she says, voice deep, running her hands over your thighs like she’s scared she’ll miss a spot.

“paige…” your voice comes out breathy. needy.

“shh, mama,” she whispers, lips brushing your inner thigh. “gonna take my time.”

her fingers push the hem of your dress up slowly. painfully slow. and when she sees what’s underneath—bare, wet, waiting—her breath catches.

“you’re so bad,” she says, kissing right above where you need her. “no panties?”

you shrug. “figured i wouldn’t need ‘em with you around.”

her tongue is spreading you open before you can even blink. slow at first—tasting, teasing, drawing shapes that make your knees shake.

you grab the counter for balance. her hands are on your thighs, holding you open like a gift, face buried like she’s starving.

“fuck,” you breathe out, head falling back.

she moans against you, like you taste better than anything she’s ever had.

“so good,” she mumbles, lips slick, tongue dragging through every drop. “you’re so fuckin’ good.”

you buck your hips, chasing her mouth. but she pulls back, grinning.

“nuh uh. i said stay still. i’m enjoying the view.”

you whine, but she dives back in—flat tongue, deep pressure, one hand trailing up to toy with your nipple through the dress.

you’re squirming now, thighs shaking. she’s relentless, moving her tongue in rhythm, then switching it up just to hear you beg.

“paige—i can’t—”

“yes you can,” she pants, voice rough. “c’mon, baby. gimme one. right here.”

she sucks your clit slow and deep, and you come undone with a hand tangled in her hair and a scream buried in your palm.

she doesn’t stop.

licks you through it, keeps sucking like it’s the only thing that matters, pulling a second orgasm right out of you with zero warning.

you collapse back, breathing heavy, thighs twitching.

paige stands, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, cocky grin already back on her face.

“still goin’ to the party?” she asks, voice raw.

you blink at her, dazed. “not if you keep lookin’ like that.”

she chuckles, fixing your dress, pecking your lips once, then again, then again.

“fix your hair, baby,” she whispers. “everyone’s gonna know you just got ruined.”

you smirk. “let ‘em.”

the party is loud, lights low, music vibrating through the walls like it’s trying to get under your skin.

paige is already tipsy, dallas hat still on slanted, cheeks flushed, drink in hand, dancing like nobody’s watching—but her eyes haven’t left you once.

“you’re my favorite thing here,” she says, slurring slightly, arm slung over your shoulders. “even better than the free sherley temples.”

you laugh, leaning into her. “i don’t believe that for a second those are your favorite.”

she cackles, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “that’s so dumb. but like hot that you know me so well.”

her fingers slide down your side, resting on your bare hip like it’s instinct.

you know you should be subtle—eyes are everywhere—but you’re buzzed too and she’s looking at you like she wants to devour you again.

“stop starin’ at me like that,” you whisper, tugging her hand off your waist.

“can’t,” she says, gripping your hand instead. “you’re too pretty for me to handle. i can’t do this.”

you roll your eyes. “you say that like you weren’t on your knees for me an hour ago.”

“shhhh,” she hisses, but she’s smiling. “don’t say that in front of everyone.”

you nudge her hat playfully. “you exposed yourself all night long.”

she leans in close, mouth brushing your jaw. “baby, i wanna bite you.”

you choke on a laugh. “you already did, psycho.”

her arms wrap around your waist tight, face buried in your neck, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“you’re the most beautiful girl ever,” she whispers. “deadass. oh and you’re mine.”

you giggle, holding her steady. “you’re so drunk.”

“i’m so in love with you,” she says louder, like that’s a defense.

geno walks by and gives you both a look. “hydrate,” he mutters, tossing paige a water bottle like he’s seen it all before.

paige holds it up like a trophy. “see? coach said i’m doing amazing.”

you steal a sip and wrap an arm around her waist, swaying with her to the beat.

she’s grinding against you slow, hands on your hips, and no one’s really paying attention—but they would if they looked close enough.

“stop,” you whisper, lips brushing her ear. “we’re in public.”

“don’t care,” she murmurs back. “you feel too good.”

her hand drifts lower. “lemme just—”

you slap it away. “paige.”

she pouts. “i miss the bathroom.”

you snort. “you’re disgusting.”

“you like me disgusting.”

you kiss her cheek. “unfortunately.”

she spins you into her chest, both hands on your ass now, dallas hat shadowing her eyes.

“tell me i’m your favorite dallas girl,” she whispers.

“you’re my only dallas girl.”

“that’s hot.”

you grab her jaw, pulling her into a slow, borderline inappropriate kiss.

paige pulls back with a cocky smirk. “oops.”

you sigh, resting your forehead to hers. “you’re not gonna survive this party, huh?”

she grins. “not a chance.”

you lose her for like ten minutes because she’s passing out shots like they’re candy and dancing with everyone.

that’s it—just ten—but it feels like an hour in a packed room full of music and flashing lights and too many hands.

you’re leaned against the bar, giggling at something the bartender said about your dress, when arms wrap tight around your waist from behind.

“what the fuck, ma” paige mutters into your neck, voice muffled and messy. “you flirting with the bartender?”

you grin, instantly leaning back into her. “no, baby. just trying to get us more drinks.”

“we already have drinks,” she says, pulling you even closer like she’s trying to merge bodies. “you’re mine. not his.”

the bartender laughs awkwardly, already sliding away. you mouth sorry over your shoulder and turn to face her.

“you good, baby?” you tease, fingers looping under her waistband.

she pouts, swaying on her feet. “i didn’t like that.”

“what, me talkin’ to someone not you for thirty seconds?”

she nods, lips brushing yours. “you’re supposed to only look at me.”

“baby,” you whisper, cupping her cheeks. “i’d marry your drunk ass tonight.”

she melts instantly, forehead pressed to yours, eyes glassy. “okay but like… actually?”

you laugh. “let’s survive this party first.”

she nods fast, gripping your hips like you’re about to disappear again. “never leave me like that. i was lookin’ for you everywhere. even checked the dj booth.”

“that’s the complete opposite direction. and you were taking shots and dancing”

“yeah,” she slurs. “i panicked.”

you wrap her up, arms around her neck. she smells like tequila and cologne and sweat and you’ve never loved her more.

“you’re so clingy when you’re drunk,” you say, kissing her jaw.

“you like it.”

you do. way too much.

she’s pulling you into the corner now, hands roaming, lips ghosting over your collarbone.

“gonna fuckin’ take you home,” she mumbles, voice all grit and heat. “can’t stop thinking about that dress. and your legs. and your mouth.”

“paige,” you warn, drunk and giggly. “people can hear.”

“let ‘em,” she shrugs, grabbing your ass. “they should know i’m the one who gets to take you home.”

you snort, fingers tangling in her hair. “jealous ass.”

“yup,” she says proudly. “jealous, drunk, and in love with the hottest girl in the whole city.”

you kiss her. messy. teeth knocking, all tongue and hunger.

when you pull back, she’s dazed. flushed. staring like she just fell in love for the first time all over again.

“let’s leave soon,” she whispers. “i need you again.”

you grin, already nodding. “we’re making it through like twenty more minutes. tops.”

you barely make it three blocks before paige’s hand is on your thigh.

not resting—gripping—tight, warm, sliding under your dress like she owns the road and you.

“pull over,” she mumbles, voice hot against your ear. “baby pull the fuck over.”

“paige,” you breathe, laughing a little. “we’re almost—”

“no,” she cuts you off, already unbuckling her belt. “can’t wait. not even a little.”

you swerve into a dark parking lot, heart racing. the second you throw it in park, she’s climbing over the console, lips crashing into yours.

“fuck,” she moans, straddling you. “been wantin’ you since the orange carpet.”

you hum into her mouth, letting her tug your dress up to your waist. “then take me.”

her fingers slide straight to your core, groaning when she feels how soaked you still are. “of course you’re already wet. such a good fuckin’ girl.”

you moan, head falling back. she takes advantage, lips attacking your neck, hands rough and urgent.

“you look so hot drivin’ like that,” she whispers, voice filthy. “little hand on the wheel, thighs out, not a thought in that pretty head.”

you whimper, hips chasing her touch. “you’re such a dick.”

“you’ll survive” she smirks, pushing two fingers in slow.

you gasp, clenching. her fingers are deep already, curling up perfectly like she’s memorized your body.

“please,” you pant, gripping her chain. “don’t stop.”

“not planning to,” she says, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your nose. “you’re mine tonight. gonna ruin you.”

you’re breathless already. squirming under her, clutching the seat like it’ll keep you grounded.

“so perfect,” she groans, fucking into you slow and deep. “always so tight for me. always so ready. you fuckin’ love this.”

you nod frantically. “i do. i love you.”

she kisses your forehead soft. “i love you too. more than anything.”

then she speeds up.

harder. deeper. her thumb finds your clit and she grins when your whole body jerks.

“you close? aww already?” she whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “c’mon, baby. cum for me.”

you fall apart in her arms, moaning her name like a prayer. she doesn’t stop.

“p-paige—”

“i know,” she breathes, kissing you hard. “i know, baby. gimme one more.”

your hips twitch, thighs shaking, but she keeps going. keeps fucking you through it, thumb still circling.

you whimper, trying to close your legs. she pins them open easy.

“nuh uh. don’t run. take it for me. be my good girl.”

you cum again with a broken sob, body going limp. she kisses every part of your face, slowing down, wiping your tears.

“you okay?” she whispers, eyes searching yours. “too much?”

you shake your head, blinking through the pleasure. “so good. just—need a second.”

she kisses your lips, your cheek, your neck. “you did so good. took it so fuckin’ good, baby.”

you’re both quiet for a second. breathing hard, arms wrapped around each other, car fogged up.

then she grins. “backseat.”

you blink. “you’re not done?”

“not even close.”

you climb over the console, falling into the backseat with a laugh. she follows, pulling her strap from her bag with a look that makes your thighs clench.

“lay down,” she says, voice low.

you do—dress bunched, legs open, eyes locked on her.

she straps it on slow. cocky. teasing.

“gonna make you scream,” she says, sliding between your thighs. “and i’m not stoppin’ ‘til you beg me.”

you bite your lip, tugging her down by the chain. “what’re you waiting for?”

she grins. “i need you so fucking bad.”

and then she sinks in.

you gasp the second she fills you.

her hips grind down slow, deep, stretching you so perfectly you see stars behind your lids.

“that’s it,” she whispers, lips ghosting your jaw. “take it, baby. take it.”

you whimper, clutching at her shirtless torso, nails dragging down her back.

her hands grip your waist tight like she’s anchoring herself to you.

“you fuckin’ love this cock,” she groans, moving rougher now. “your little pussy’s so greedy.”

“yes, fuck, paige!” you cry, thighs trembling already.

she leans down, kisses your forehead sweet, completely unhinged everywhere else.

“you’re so perfect for me. so tight. so fuckin’ pretty.”

you moan louder, back arching, legs wrapping around her.

she shifts, hitting that spot that makes you cry out her name like it’s holy.

“there it is,” she smirks, breath hot. “right fuckin’ there. you’re so easy for me.”

“don’t stop,” you pant, gripping her chain, pulling her closer. “please, don’t—don’t stop.”

she slaps your thigh once, possessive and mean. “you think i’d stop now? after you left me jealous at the bar? nah, baby. you’re gettin’ all of it.”

your legs shake as she picks up the pace.

the car is humid, windows fogged, your moans filling the space like a soundtrack.

“gonna cum,” you choke, already falling apart under her. “please, please—”

“do it,” she demands, kissing you hard. “cum on my dick, baby. right now.”

you scream, body convulsing around her.

she fucks you through it, doesn’t let up, even when you start to push at her chest.

“too much,” you whisper, teary-eyed.

“nah, you got one more,” she breathes, watching your face. “just one more. be good f’me.”

she slips a hand down, fingers playing with your clit while her strap grinds deep again.

you’re sobbing her name, body overstimulated, but she keeps praising you through it.

“look at you,” she murmurs, kissing your jaw between thrusts. “taking it like a fuckin’ dream. you’re so good. you’re mine.”

you cum again, harder than before, legs spasming around her.

she slows, finally, kissing every inch of your skin she can reach.

your chest heaves. you’re fucked out and glowing.

“okay?” she whispers, brushing your hair off your face.

you nod, barely able to speak. “yeah. yeah, baby, i’m so good.”

she smiles, eyes soft but blown. “you’re unreal.”

you giggle, tugging her down for a slow, messy kiss. “so are you.”

she holds you, forehead pressed to yours, still inside you, refusing to let go.

“i couldn’t survive without you,” she breathes, serious now.

you smile, tracing her lip with your thumb. “i know baby. i know.”

“get on me,” she says, voice low, eyes dark, still inside you.

you blink, dazed. “paige—”

“now,” she growls, grabbing your hips. “you wanna act like a brat, flirtin’ at the bar, lettin’ me get jealous? then ride me.”

your breath hitches, “can you let it go? i wasn’t even flirting.”

she shifts back in the seat shaking her head no, legs spread wide, strap slick and glistening, waiting for you.

you crawl over, thighs shaky, cunt still pulsing from the overstimulation.

she doesn’t help you down—just watches, smug, arms behind her head proving she’s ready after waiting all night.

“c’mon, baby,” she taunts, licking her lips. “show me how bad you want it. sit on it like a good girl.”

you sink down slow, whimpering when the stretch burns all over again.

she groans, gripping your waist. “fuck—look at you. you love this. your greedy little pussy lives for my cock.”

you gasp, grinding your hips once, just to feel her deeper. she slaps your ass hard.

“don’t fuckin’ move unless i say.”

your nails dig into her shoulders, needy. “please—”

“not yet,” she says, smirking. “you don’t deserve it yet.”

you’re shaking, still full, still sensitive. she kisses your collarbone, all fake sweetness.

“sit pretty,” she says, breath against your skin. “i’ll tell you when to move.”

you whimper, hips twitching instinctively. she grabs your throat—gentle but firm.

“don’t test me, baby. you know how this goes.”

your eyes roll back as she flexes her thighs under you, grinding the strap just right.

“how bad do you wanna ride me?” she whispers, kissing your cheek. “tell me.”

“so bad,” you breathe, nails dragging down her chest. “i need it, paige, i need it so bad.”

she hums, tilting her head. “then beg. fuckin’ beg for it.”

“please,” you whimper. “let me ride you. let me cum, please—i’ll be good.”

“you will be good,” she says, finally nodding. “but you don’t get to cum ‘til i say. you come before that? i’ll flip you over and start from the top.”

you nod frantically, starting to move.

slow, deep rolls of your hips, her strap hitting you perfectly, already building heat again in your belly.

“that’s it,” she groans, gripping your hips tight. “ride me. just like that.”

you’re moaning nonstop, bouncing harder now, thighs burning, sweat dripping.

“fuck, you look so good,” she mutters, eyes locked on you. “you’re such a fuckin’ dream. tits out, legs spread, so wet for me.”

you cry out, losing your rhythm. she grabs your hips, helping you grind deeper.

“look at me,” she commands, grabbing your chin. “i want those pretty eyes on mine when i ruin you.”

you nod, mouth open, panting. she’s so deep—every stroke feels like fire.

“don’t cum,” she warns again, watching your face twist. “not yet, baby. be good.”

you sob, head falling to her shoulder. she pulls your hair, drags your mouth back to hers.

“you can take it,” she pants, voice dark. “you’re strong. you’re my good girl.”

“p-paige, i can’t—”

“you can. you will. hold it.”

she snaps her hips up, thrusting hard into you. you scream.

“fuck, fuck, please—please let me—”

“not yet,” she growls, fucking up into you relentlessly. “you’re gonna listen to me.”

your whole body’s trembling now. she slaps your ass again, grinding your clit into her stomach.

“so needy,” she hisses. “so dumb when you’re full. you’re mine. say it.”

“i’m yours,” you cry. “i’m yours, i’m yours, please—”

“look at you,” she moans, biting your neck. “so fuckin’ desperate. this tight little pussy’s clenching so hard—fuck—you’re so close.”

you nod, unable to speak, tears slipping down your cheeks.

she kisses them away.

“alright,” she whispers, breath shaky. “now. cum for me, baby. fuckin’ let go.”

you explode, body going rigid, then collapsing into her chest with a broken cry.

she holds you through it, arms around you, lips on your forehead, whispering praise.

“that’s my girl,” she breathes. “you did so good. so fuckin’ good f’me.”

you can’t speak. just breathe. just shake.

“shhh,” she soothes, stroking your hair. “i got you.”

you’re still full, still twitching, still boneless against her chest.

she presses one last kiss to your temple, hand on your back.

“i wouldn’t wanna celebrate tonight any other way,” she mutters, smiling into your skin. “you make me crazy.”

© fuddaround

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader do the “we listen and we don’t judge” challenge

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

cute lil suggestion <3

Y/n set her phone up with a smile on her lips, Drew sitting next to her at their kitchen island, his hair messy as he took a sip of coffee. The two of them had finally gotten out of bed after an hour of cuddling in the early morning light of their bedroom, chatting and showing each other videos the other thought they’d like. After making the two of them coffee, y/n decided it would be fun to make a little video of their own.

“Ok, let’s go.” Y/n grinned, pressing record and sitting back on her stool.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” The two of them said, Drew looking at y/n with a quirk of his brow as he anticipated y/n’s answer.

“The real reason I got a black eye last summer was because I ran into the wall when I was on my phone, not because I fell while shooting.” Y/n bit her lip. Drew already knew that, having witnessed the incident, but the two of them had agreed to keep up the lie to spare the embarrassment and teasing from the rest of the cast.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” The two of them said.

“Sometimes I pretend to be asleep just so I can listen to you talk to yourself in the morning.” Drew smirked. Y/n had a habit of talking to herself in preparation for the day, sometimes even singing a bit as she got around. It was a habit Drew found endearing, but he knew if she knew he was awake she would stop… so he pretended to be asleep.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” They said.

“When we first moved in together I was nervous to… poop in our bathroom and would walk to Madelyn’s apartment every time I had to go to the bathroom.” Y/n giggled. Drew’s cheeks flushed, trying his best not to spit out his coffee.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” The two of them said.

“When we first moved in together I was nervous to poop in our bathroom and would walk to Austin’s apartment every time I had to go to the bathroom.” Drew said. Y/n’s jaw dropped, the two of them laughing at their common secret.

“So nobody pooped in our bathroom for the first few months we lived together?” Y/n asked with a giggle.

“I had a crush on you! I didn’t want you to think I was gross.” Drew blushed, swirling his coffee aimlessly. Y/n pouted playfully before pressing a kiss to Drew’s cheek.

“Ok, ok. Back to business.” Y/n said.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” They said.

“I have a folder of edits of you on my Tik Tok I watch when I miss you.” Y/n laughed, covering her face as Drew tried to hold back his giggles.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” The two of them said.

“One time when I was really drunk I accidentally used like all of your really nice shampoo and blamed it on my sister when she was visiting.” Drew smirked, biting his lip. “I had a buzzcut at the time too, so I don’t know what inspired me to do that.”

“I knew it wasn’t her!” Y/n gasped.

“We don’t judge! We don’t judge!” Drew said, raising his hands in surrender.

“Yes, yes, sorry.” Y/n smiled.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” They said.

“The first time you made me Mama Jodi’s casserole I think you messed something up because I got really bad food poisoning, but I didn’t want to tell you because you were so excited.” Y/n said quickly. Drew’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping at her confession.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” They said together.

“I asked my mom for her ring after only four months of us dating.” Drew said, a blush spreading across his cheeks. She had known the ring he had proposed to her with was his mothers, updated by Drew to match y/n’s own taste, and she knew he had been holding onto it for a while, but she didn’t realize just how long.

“Are you serious?” Y/n raised her brows in surprise, her stomach fluttering.

“I knew you were it for me.” Drew said with a simple shrug. Y/n felt her cheeks grow warm as she flung her arms around Drew’s broad shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you and your big, romantic heart, Starkey.” Y/n grinned up at him, her arms still resting on his shoulders. Drew smiled back at her, his eyes scanning over her face with a smile on his lips.

“I love you… even if you have a folder of saved Tik Toks of me—” Drew giggled.

“We don’t judge!” Y/n laughed.

“We don’t judge.” Drew grinned, pressing a quick kiss to y/n’s nose before ending the video.

[littlelovelunette]

this might be dumb or too much but I really see ambessa fingering reader to the point that reader doesn't just squirt but literally pisses herself and instead of genuinely making fun of her ambessa just smirks and keeps going almost feeling proud until reader is just a sobbing mess🥰 and then they have to go sleep in another bedroom because aint nobody cleaning that up (i bet ambessa has cleaners in her estate) and reader does get embarrassed and is like do NOT mention that again and ambessa just laughs and kisses her woohoo

Pushed To The Limit

Ambessa x Wife!Reader

Messy smut, fingering, piss kink

Ambessa fingered you until you cried and begged for mercy, your fingers dug into the silken sheets as you tried not to push up more against her hand. It felt too good, no one could blame you for that. Ambessa chuckled and used her thumb— pressing your clit.

"Is that too much, sweetheart?" She asked you, her tone dripping with mockery.

You sniffled and faced away, your pussy clenching around her digits as if begging her deliciously thick digits to continue staying inside. That's what you wanted anyway.

"Please," you whispered, "I can't hold it in anymore."

"You wanna do it all over my hand, don't you?" Ambessa smirked, twisting her fingers to rub that one sweet spot inside you that made your eyes roll back, "Say it."

You shook your head, staring at her with glossy eyes as you trembled in her arms. "Bessa," you whined. "Bessa, please."

Ambessa added a third finger making you gasp, her other hand rubbed down your abdomen finding the area where your bladder was, she massaged it gently. Not pressing. Not yet.

"Oh, little one, I bet you're so full in here," she pressed, gently.

Your eyes closed and a sharp intake of breath— you sniffled, "Please, don't press there... it-it'll all come out," you said.

"You want that, don't you?" Ambessa leaned in and kissed your jaw, "You want to piss all over my hand like the dumb mutt that you are," she whispered in your ear, "You want to filthy my fingers up, you know it deep down. Admit it. Let go."

Ambessa's words strucks a chord in you, your body felt like it was on fire. With the impending pressure of all the piss you held in, you couldn't relax and enjoy the rough fingering your wife was giving you.

You sighed, "I—" you stuttered over your words. "I want it."

"Then do it," Ambessa bit the curve between your neck and shoulder.

You cried out, your body arching as you released all over her hand, piss shooting out of your cunt with a hissing sound and soaking the sheets beneath the both of you.

"Dirty girl," Ambessa said, taunting you for doing exactly what she coerced you to do.

"Bessa," you mumbled her name tearfully before you hid your face in the crook of her neck.

Ambessa chuckled, "I got you, sweet girl."

She kissed your temple and started moving her fingers— rougher, faster. And you could finally focus on the pleasure.

You gasped and trembled, "I'm close, I'm close!" You grabbed the sheets and pulled at them, "I'm gonna cum! Please!—"

Ambessa kissed you silencing you as you finished all over her fingers, soaking her hand with your juices once again. Your pussy was sensitive to the slightest touch now, you were a shaky mess.

"Bessa, I'm tired," your voice was faint.

"Yeah, baby?" Ambessa back away, wiping her hand off on the sheets, "Let's go to the other room, I'll run you a bath and then you can lay in my lap all pretty and I'll braid your hair."

You blushed, "Mmm..."

You wrapped your arms around her and she pulled you in her lap.

"The cleaners are going to love the little assignment wes're leaving them to," she looked at the messed up duvet and chuckled, wrapping you in a clean towel and carrying you away bridal style.

"That's not our problem."

"But it is my embarrassment." You muttered.

"Shhh, no one judges you when you're mine."

[myokk]

clumsy

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 9,1k

summary: sebastian is clumsy

cw: fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, two really stubborn idiots in love to be exact, sir cadogan guest appearance, anne and imelda are the gremlin best friends every girl needs, smut (18+ ONLY), oral (f. recieving)

a/n: or: two stubborn brats make things more difficult than they have to be. I've been working on this for a MONTH more or less, ever since I drew the sketch that inspired it🫶 (I'm the world's slowest writer)

The first time Sebastian Sallow interacted with her after the fateful events of their fifth year, he fell for her.

Quite literally.

Maybe fell on her is more aptly put - Sebastian Sallow is not one to mince his words or say what he doesn't mean, after all. But, in the years to come, he always insists that he fell in love in that moment.

It was inexplicable. One moment, he was walking around, perfectly content with his loveless, boring life, and the next, his every waking moment was painful. Nobody had ever told Sebastian that being in love would physically pain or consume him so.

It all started like this: one moment, he's walking (well, striding) to Crossed Wands. Fine, he's running. Running late already, for the first meet-up of his last year. But - he isn't to blame for being late. He needed to check on something in the library - during his Transfiguration lesson, he had a hunch about something Professor Weasley had said in passing, and of course he had to go and check to see if he was right before he could even think about besting Leander in the inaugural duel of the Crossed Wands season but now, with how late he is - how many minutes ago had it started? - oh, Merlin, it's already been ten whole minutes and what if they've started without him (not that he can blame them) and -

Sebastian is abruptly pulled out of his thoughts when he collides with a strange obstruction in his way. He was just checking his father's old pocket watch, had only looked away for a split second and he could have sworn that, unless he was mistaken (which he never is), there wasn't a statue in the middle of the suspension bridge. And yet, he has run headfirst into something or someone, and now they are both flying through the air, books whirling around them in a flurry of pages and Sebastian unconsciously puts his arms out to grab her before they hit the ground and now he's holding her tight against him and they land with a loud, ungraceful thud, but at least she's not hurt.

Sebastian shakes his head to clear it after the impact that - miraculously - doesn't seem to have been as bad as it could have been, all things considered, and -

He freezes.

What has he done?

He's pressed up against the most impossibly lovely person he has ever seen quite possibly in his life, holding her tightly in his arms as she glares up at him in indignation, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks, making her face glow. Is this what the muggles mean when they say that they were struck by Cupid's arrow? Her hands scrabble uselessly at his chest as she tries to extricate herself from his grip. It's useless. Sebastian is completely frozen in place as he stares down at her, and he can feel his own face heating up at his inability to get off her. What's wrong with him?

"Sebastian," she repeats, and this time her voice registers in his brain. He realizes she has been talking to him this whole time, and as he stares at her face without comprehending - he couldn't have a coherent thought right now even if he wanted to - he sees her eyes dart quickly down, looking at where their bodies meet before she brings them back to his face, a deeper blush coming over her. "You -"

Oh, Merlin. It's her. He blinks and it's like the fog has cleared from his mind - almost, but-not-quite - and he realizes who he has unceremoniously crashed to the ground with him. The spines of the textbooks they are lying on top of dig into the arm that's pinned under her body and his other hand...he realizes (to his almost-horror) that to any students or professors walking by, it would seem as if they were caught up in quite the scandalous extra-curricular activity because his other hand is actively caressing her breast. Well, that's how it would look to any passerby, anyways.

Because there is no way he would be caught dead in such a compromising position with her.

The two of them haven't spoken since the events of their fifth year - the Year-That-Shall-Not-Be-Remembered-or-Acknowledged - and he had been perfectly content with his plan to continue this strange sort of ignoring that they had played all last year. Both of them pretending that they hadn't become impossibly close after only knowing each other for a few months - a closeness that he had gone and ruined by not knowing when to quit. All he had known to do back then was push push push because why couldn't she see things the way he had? The betrayal he had felt when she had gone behind his back to find her own way to cure his sister, and that one stupid word uttered in the heat of the moment, had caused an irreparable rift in their relationship and he would not allow himself to think about how much he missed her. Still misses her.

Just like he will not think about the fact that she is pressed beneath him in a compromising position, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she glares up at him in indignation. He continues to stare at her. Maybe his mouth is agape. She's stopped trying to get out of his grip and is resting her hands on his chest, seemingly waiting for an opportunity to push him off of her.

"Sebastian. Your hand," she repeats. "You're -"

Finally his idiot brain decides to wake up and Sebastian realizes with horror just how aroused he is at the moment and how did he never see her like this before? He gets up in a flash, pushing her back against the pile of books they're lying on top of, wondering if he can subtly adjust his robes without her realizing and then he makes the very grave mistake of looking down at her and she's still very much red-faced, propping herself up by her elbows and she looks so disheveled and lovely lying on top of the pile of books.

His idiot brain has now woken up completely, and how is it possible for one hormonal, eighteen-year-old wizard to be so embarrassed? He knocked her to the ground, pushed her further back in the books in his desperate attempt to get away from her, and now all he can think about is how to hide his arousal. Shameful, really. Sebastian quickly crouches down to help her pick up all of the books but she shoves him away and glares at him with an annoyance that he's never seen before.

"I can do it myself, thank you very much," she says with a huff, gathering everything they spilled up into her arms. She grabs the book Sebastian is holding out of his hands and he inhales sharply at the touch of her fingers grazing his.

Did someone - Garreth, maybe - spike his pumpkin juice with Amortentia during lunch? It's the only explanation he can think of as he stares blankly down at her. How else would he find her so beautiful, so breathtaking, when the last time they had interacted, Ominis and Anne had had to act as intermediaries for the two of them?

"Well," she says finally, slinging her school bag over her shoulder once all of her books have been unceremoniously shoved inside of it, "it's been...nice seeing you again, Sallow. I hope you had a good summer holiday."

And with that, she quickly turns and walks away in the direction she had been coming from, leaving a very confused Sebastian behind. He watches her as she walks away and her long, swishing braid is the last thing he sees before the door closes behind her at the far end of the bridge.

Eventually, he gathers his wits and wanders away.

He does not go to the first Crossed Wands meeting that afternoon after all.

She has not had a full-night's sleep since he somehow cursed her mind and her thoughts a week ago, and she can feel herself slowly slipping into insanity. A curse is the only answer that makes sense, the only thing that gives a conceivable answer to all the wicked dreams she has been having since that moment, dreams that cause her to wake up sweaty and breathless and needing him in the middle of the night in a way she has never felt before. She has been an absolute mess, a disastrous version of her normally quite put-together self, and she is not happy about it.

He's sitting next to her now - they were partnered up by the evil Professor Onai in their first NEWT Divination class of the year - and she's holding herself rigidly, arms tight across her chest, in an attempt to not accidentally touch him. Lately, every single time they make fleeting eye contact across the table during breakfast, or when they pass each other in the hallways, a shiver runs down her spine at the unfamiliar look in his eyes and she has to avert her eyes before it's too much.

Divination has never been a favorite subject of hers - too impermeable for her tastes. She is only taking it at the NEWT level because, during her career counseling with Professor Ronen at the end of her fifth year, he had said that if she wanted to be an Unspeakable she couldn't just work with logic (a preposterous thought, but as a sixteen-year-old she hadn't seen any recourse in arguing with the Ministry's requirements). She supposedly needs to get comfortable with the intangible as well. It doesn't mean she has to enjoy it, though: she doesn't, and never will. The Divination classroom is dark and stuffy, tucked away in one of the highest towers of the castle, and the nauseating smell of incense always coats her nasal cavities long after the class has finished. She finds her thoughts getting muddled in the haze of candle smoke and swirling orbs on the shelves around her - magic somehow always feels thicker up here - and the presence of a certain someone whose knees keep brushing hers under the tiny table they're sharing, a certain someone who has - improbably, inconceivably, impossibly - hit a growth spurt that summer and now towers over her and had encompassed her completely when he knocked her to the ground, isn't helping her concentration at -

"This week, we are going to review everything we learned together last year," Professor Onai says, after the class had rearranged itself based on her instructions. Sebastian shoots a look at her as she shakes her head in an attempt to clear it and sits up straighter. She hopes that Onai's lecture will help her concentrate and clear her mind a bit. If she has something to focus on, to try and think of and remember, it will be better than him. Anything would be better than Sebastian. Onai gives an appraising look to each table before continuing her speech. "As your NEWTs are at the end of the year, we need to make sure you are as prepared as possible. Open your books to page two-hundred and thirty. Today we're going to review the art of palmistry. I should hope that you do not need the aid of your textbook to help interpret the lines in your partner's palm but in the case that you do -"

She chances a glance at Sebastian before getting out her copy of Divining the Undivinable from her bag and wishes she hadn't. He looks uncomfortably big sitting on the tiny tea chair across from her, barely any hints of the boy who had completely swept her away two years ago visible on the sharper planes of his face. When had he - had they - grown up?

Sebastian Sallow was - is - charming, and that had been her downfall. She had successfully avoided his charms the year before, and she wasn't going to let that happen this year, no matter how much her body rebelled against her mind and resolve. Because, as she reminds herself, Sebastian Sallow is also manipulative, and cold-hearted, and selfish.

"Well," she says archly, opening her book. She will not look at him. "I suppose I am still quite ignorant of the practice of Divination, so do forgive me if I have to double-check my readings in the textbook."

He says her name as she opens the book, and she ignores him. He says her name again. She continues to ignore him. He grabs the book from her hands and puts it the correct way for her. She was looking at it upside-down. Her cheeks heat up and she continues flipping through the pages, as if nothing has happened. She finds page two-hundred and thirty. She pretends to be interested in what she sees.

(Divination is unfortunately not interesting.)

Oh, fine.

"Do you want to start, or should I?"

These are the first words she has voluntarily spoken to him - not including the events of last week, which do not count as they were most decidedly not voluntary - since he called her ignorant a year and a half ago. He somehow looks surprised to see that she has addressed him, and for some reason this fills her with rage and a strange sort of confidence. Why shouldn't she be able to talk to him?

"Here," she says, putting her hand out towards him, palm up, ignoring the strange fluttering feeling in her chest when he gently grabs it with one of his. Sebastian looks up at her, waiting for her to continue speaking, and were she not looking at him so intently she would have easily missed the bob of his throat as he swallows nervously. "Show me how it's done."

Her breath catches in her throat at the small, mischievous smirk he shoots to her before he bends over her hand and gently starts tracing the lines on her palm with the fingers of the hand that's not holding hers in place. His touch is feather-light and somehow soft, despite the roughness of his fingers as they drag over her palm. Every nerve in her body seems to have moved to wherever he touches and all of the bravado and anger she had just felt is quickly melting away. When she finally finds her voice, she hates how soft and breathy it sounds. She can't look away from the sight of his larger hands caressing hers.

"Well? What do you see? Do you remember the different lines? Because I -"

She falters. The murmurs of their classmates blend together in the background and the dim lights of the candles...the hazy, thick atmosphere and his proximity and the barely there touches of his rough fingertips on her sensitive palm are altogether too overwhelming and she needs to get out of there. She's supposed to be angry with him. Furious, even. Holding this grudge has been the only way she has been able to have any sort of power over him this past year, and yet...all she can think about at the moment are the sinful dreams she's been having lately where he presses her against a wall, desperately kissing her lips, her neck - even she knows that there has to be more to it - but what?

Sebastian blinks as she snatches her hand away like it's been burned and - oh, Merlin - she shoves the textbook back into her schoolbag and almost knocks the candle on the table over and wouldn't it be awful if she had started a fire? But she can't think about any of that now in her haste to just get out of the claustrophobic Divination tower.

Vaguely, she can hear Professor Onai asking her if everything is fine and she's not sure but she thinks she mumbles something about needing to go to the Hospital Wing - that's a good enough excuse to leave, isn't it? - but then she hears his voice, deep and cutting through the fog in her mind -

"Don't worry, I'll take her and make sure she gets there fine." A muffled response from their professor and then his voice, just as clear as before. "No, I don't know what happened..."

She hears him calling her name as she flees down the spiral staircase, almost tripping over her feet in her rush to get away from him, but he catches up quickly, reaching out to grab her arm in an attempt to slow her down. She stops running immediately - she supposes her traitorous body wants to see what he has to say, or maybe it just wants to bask in his intoxicating proximity. He crowds her space, and she sees that unfamiliar look in his eyes again. So very different from the cold disdain she had seen the last time she had been this close to him, during the argument that had ended their friendship.

"Let go of me," she whispers, but there's no conviction in her voice as she gazes into his deep, brown eyes. He can tell she doesn't mean it and doesn't make any move to listen to her. Why can't she hold on to the rage? A muggle quote about anger floats through her mind: Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. What a sweet poison her anger at Sebastian had been, while it lasted. She tries telling herself that he must still feel the same as the evening he had called her ignorant (ignoring the small voice in her head that reminded her of the letters of apology he had sent (that she had burned without reading), the times he had tried to get Anne or Ominis involved and apologize for him) - because why couldn't he just tell her himself? Maybe she had shut down any and all attempts he had made to repair the rift that he had caused in the first place, but she had been right to be so angry with him.

But oh, Merlin, he's getting closer to her, and she can now clearly see the freckles dusting his cheeks and nose and forehead and then before she knows it, his hand is sliding up her arm, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches and then he's caressing her jaw with his rough thumb and he pauses. Her eyelids flutter closed as her head tilts towards him - she couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to (what does she want?). She can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips and she has the improbable, ridiculous thought - how is he remembering to breathe? - before he speaks. His lips brush against hers with every soft word and a deep shiver runs through her body.

"I," she hears him say, his voice so, so low, "haven't been able to think since last week."

That's all she needs to hear, the brush of his bottom lip against hers all she needs to feel, to push her into closing what minuscule distance there is between them and then his lips are on hers and it's better than anything she's been imagining. His mouth is soft against hers, insistent, and her hands go up to grip the collar of his plaid jacket to make sure he doesn't go away or disappear on her.

She knows she's behaving wantonly, snogging Sebastian Sallow in the middle of the hallway where anyone could come across them, but third period has only just started and besides, she has had a week of restless nights being tortured by thoughts of him. A week of a few hours of sleep found here and there. Just one kiss should be enough to help her get over these strange feelings, right? She only feels like this because having him lie on top of her after he crashed into her - that satisfying weight of him - the friction of his thumb brushing against her nipple - had made her realize just how stupid she had been, holding this grudge against him for -

She whimpers in protest but it quickly turns into a moan as his mouth moves away from hers and down to her neck. He pulls at her tight collar desperately - she hears some seams ripping - to give him better access to it, and she finds herself arching her back and pushing her body closer to his as he nuzzles her neck with his nose before giving it open, sloppy kisses. When he hears her, he moves back to kissing her, greedily capturing every breathy moan that comes out of her mouth, but the noises coming from him are matching hers, and at the sound she feels an unfamiliar clenching deep in her stomach. Her fingers come up to his hair, going through the silky curls over and over - how are they as soft as his lips? - and he slowly pushes her back until she's sandwiched between his warm body and the cold stone of the wall behind her.

He lets out a low, frantic growl as a hand goes to grip the back of her head, holding her in place as he slants his mouth over hers. He tastes like cinnamon and...like something forbidden. What has gotten into her? She hates him, and yet...

They have abandoned any pretense of propriety - had they ever even been trying? - by this point. His tongue swipes across her lips and then she is completely lost to him, to every sensation of his mouth, and tongue, on hers. His large hands - the wicked hands that had been caressing her palm and had caused this whole mess in the first place - have moved to her waist and are pulling her even closer to him. When he pulls away briefly, she whines in protest, opening her eyes to glare at him. The sight of him, flushed and breathless, his eyes wide and pupils dilated - must match her own appearance because she sees the same hunger she feels in his eyes. She has never seen Sebastian Sallow so disheveled, but she finds she quite likes it and tugs on his curls with a whine. He obliges eagerly, bringing his mouth back to hers.

She's pressed as tightly against him as she can possibly be, and yet it still isn't enough. Her back arches once again, trying to find something, and then he slots one of his knees between her legs. She moans at the friction caused by his movements, can feel an unfamiliar slickness forming at the juncture between her legs, and this seems to spur him on further as his kisses get more desperate and sloppy. She moves against his leg, trying to relieve some of her discomfort, gasping into his mouth, when -

They freeze. Even if they are fully, completely, absorbed by...whatever this is, they can't ignore the strange, metallic clanking sound coming from their left. Sebastian pulls his head back from her slowly, reluctantly, breathing heavily, and looks over to see what the noise is. She wants to, but all of a sudden the horrifying reality of what they've been doing sinks in and oh god what if the noise is a person? Someone who has now seen her in what might possibly be the most mortifying moment of her life - desperately snogging Sebastian Sallow - and she finds she can't look over. She tucks her head into his neck to hide her face as she listens.

"I demand that you get away from her at once, you knave! Cease your attack!"

The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but she's certain that it doesn't belong to any of her classmates. He almost sounds...medieval, but -

"I made haste when I heard sounds of distress coming from down the hallway," the voice continues, "and it appears I have arrived not a moment too soon!"

She brings her head away from Sebastian's shoulder but still refuses to look over at whoever is speaking, instead choosing to stare at Sebastian's face. He's still deliciously flushed from their snogging, still breathing heavily, but now he looks terribly confused. His brows are furrowed, mouth opening and closing as he tries to come up with a response to the outrage currently being directed at him.

The unknown man is continuing his diatribe, almost not even stopping to breathe as he gets more and more worked up, and she hears some more clanking as he reaches a particularly exciting moment in his rant. Sebastian looks increasingly confused, but still shields her with his body, not moving away from her at all despite the accusations.

Her curiosity gets the better of her and she peeks over to see who it is.

The man who has been reprimanding Sebastian so boldly is none other than Sir Cadogan. Although she's never interacted with him directly, she often hears him yelling at his pony as she passes his portrait on her way to Divination. The knight is standing between two witches having tea, who are glaring at him quite angrily as he gesticulates wildly - every movement of his sword comes dangerously close to their display of cakes and sandwiches and it looks like he has already broken some plates. His armor is ill-fitting and loose on him, which explains the terrible noise.

"You rascally knave! I assure you that you do not want to find out what will happen to you if you do not unhand the fair maiden."

He brandishes his sword again, and the woman closest to him quickly snatches her tea cup away to save it from being broken as well. "Come now, Sir Cadogan," she says, exasperated. "Can't you see that these two are in love?"

The other woman joins her protests, nodding vigorously. "Yes, exactly that. Leave them be!"

"Nonsense," he exclaims. "I too have succumbed to my baser instincts on occasion and I can assure you that this is decidedly not what is occurring."

As Sir Cadogan continues to alternate between lecturing her and Sebastian, and directing his two attention to the ladies who are defending them, she looks back to the boy in question. Sebastian is looking down at her, a bemused smile on his lips and she feels a twinge in her chest. His face is still so close to hers that if she wants to, they could be snogging again with barely any effort and her eyes briefly flicker down to his tempting mouth before going back to his eyes, but...

What had gotten into her? What is she doing?

He had somehow managed to manipulate her again, because there is no way that this situation could have happened otherwise. All of a sudden, the anger she's been feeling for the past year and a half - that had left for a brief, blissful moment - surges again, and she pushes Sebastian away from her with as much force as she can muster. She almost feels bad as the happiness in his face turns to confusion, then frustration as he realizes she's getting away from him.

"Stay away from me," she hisses, picking up her discarded schoolbag from its spot on the ground. As she stalks down the hall, she can hear Sir Cadogan cheering on her bravery over the ringing in her ears.

She has a lot of thinking to do.

Sebastian Sallow's List of Priorities (in no particular order):

Figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate;

Figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this bloody Charms essay before tomorrow; and

Figure out what the hell is going on between us

Sebastian sits in an undisturbed corner of the library - nobody ever comes to this table because it's tucked away between shelves of incredibly dense magical theory books - and is twirling his quill in his fingers, watching the ink splatter on the list he spent his precious time writing instead of the Charms essay he should be working on. He's far away from the first-years who like to congregate by the windows and watch the leaves fall softly to the ground rather than study for their classes. He's made especially sure that he is far, far away from her.

It's not his choice, mind you, but he needs to be a gentleman about these things. If she needs some time and space to figure out that she's as crazy for him as he is her, fine. But even Sebastian Sallow's patience runs thin, and he's not sure how much longer he can give her to come to her senses before he snaps and takes matters into his own hands. If things were up to him, the two of them would be sitting far too close together now in this secluded corner, and maybe he would need to put a hand over her mouth to ensure her complete silence as he runs a hand up her thigh.

Now that he knows what delicious sounds can come out of her mouth - sounds that he caused - he's been having a hard time concentrating on, well, anything. Sebastian surreptitiously glances across the library to where she's sitting and studying with his sister and Imelda. Ever since the events after their Divination class, Sir Cadogan has taken it upon himself to follow Sebastian around the halls of the castle, tripping through frames and disrupting their inhabitants as he lectures Sebastian on love. The tea party women had managed to convince the knight that he had disrupted an amorous exchange, and Sebastian fervently wishes they hadn't.

The whole school is abuzz with rumors about who it could be. Nobody has even come close so far with their guesses, but Anne and Imelda are having too much fun teasing him about it. Somehow, she has managed to avoid suspicion - he wonders how this is even possible, since she's never been able to hide what she's thinking. He makes eye contact with her - has she been staring at him this whole time? - and she flushes before looking over to Imelda, who's laughing too loudly at something Anne's just said. Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from her profile, his eyes following the curve of her eyebrow, the slight upturn of her lips as she smiles at her friends, her eyes as they dart back to him, her cheeks as she turns an even darker shade of red as she realizes he's still watching her. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests her chin on her hand as she tries to look absorbed in what Anne is saying to her.

Sebastian wonders if she's thought about him as much as he's thought about her. Judging by how she had snogged him back, he's positive that she feels the same way, but then he remembers how she had looked at him before she fled, and he's not so sure. He sighs as he looks back to his list, bringing his quill back to the third item and ripping the paper as he crosses it out again. His mind has been going in circles since that moment and he doesn't know what to think. He slowly puts everything into his schoolbag before heading out of the library for yet another freezing cold shower that hopefully tempers his now-permanent state of arousal whenever she's around.

He doesn't notice her eyes following him as he walks out of the library.

He doesn't hear her hurried excuse to Anne and Imelda as she shoves her things into her bag and rushes to follow him.

He doesn't hear her light footsteps as she gets closer to him.

When she puts a hand out to touch his arm as he waits for the moving staircase to stop, with a soft, "Sebastian" accompanying it, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He was so absorbed with thoughts of her, that to see her standing at his side, closer than she had been since they kissed was almost his snapping point.

"Can we talk?" she asks, looking almost embarrassed as she avoids his eyes. She instead looks determinedly at his collar. He thinks she probably notices that he swallows nervously before acquiescing, but she says nothing as she turns and starts hurrying away from him without waiting to see if he follows her.

She must know that he would follow her anywhere at this point.

They weave through hallways - Sebastian vaguely wonders where exactly they're going - before reaching a little alcove, hidden by a suit of armor. She looks around before pulling him into it. It's almost curfew and the halls are never that busy when the weather is as beautiful as it has been these days - the end of September seems to be clinging on to the summer for as long as possible.

Her lips are on his before he can even ask her what she needed to talk with him about, hungry and desperate. Sebastian is too stunned to pull away - not that he would actually want to. Her arms wrap around his neck, keeping Sebastian close, slender fingers sliding through his hair.

"What," she says breathlessly between kisses - almost not even moving her mouth away from his enough to be able to enunciate properly, "are you doing to me? I haven't been able to think for the last month."

Sebastian smiles into her mouth, wondering if she knows that she's repeating the very thing he told her two weeks ago. Maybe she has been thinking of him all this time - he almost hopes that she's been suffering as much as he has. Instead of responding, he moves a hand to cup her jaw, deepening the kiss. His other hand moves to her waist, gripping it tightly, pulling her flush against his body and she gasps into his mouth. He slowly moves her closer to the window alcove behind them, snogging her senseless the whole time. She moans into his mouth which just spurs him on further - her skirt rides up to her hips as Sebastian trails a hand up her stockinged thigh and they both gasp when his hand reaches skin. Her skin is so, so soft and her breathing gets faster as he continues to caress her inner thigh, closer to the bend between her thigh and her center. Sebastian wonders if she's ever been touched there before by someone else and jealousy flares up inside of him at the thought.

In one swift move, he scoops her up and places her so that she's sitting on the window-ledge, the dusky light of the sunset illuminating her from behind and making her wispy flyaway hairs a golden halo around her. Sebastian's breath catches in his throat - has he ever seen anything so beautiful as her in that moment? - she's staring up at him, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her breathing shallow and anticipation in her eyes. "You're," he starts saying and his throat goes dry. He brings a hand up to tuck the errant lock of hair - the one she had tucked earlier in the library - behind her ear and she leans her head into his touch, closing her eyes briefly before looking up at him again with wide eyes. "You're perfect."

She smiles faintly and pulls his head back down towards hers and now she's brushing her lips against his, teasing him, before it's too much and he grips the back of her head, holding her in place as he crushes his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss. Her knees are on either side of his waist, and she desperately grinds her core against his throbbing erection and they both groan at the friction. Sebastian moves his hands down to her thighs again as he kisses her, slowly caressing his way up and pushing her skirt up further until it's completely bunched around her waist. She gasps into his mouth at his first tentative touch after he pushes aside her undergarments. Sebastian swipes a finger up her slit, through the slick that coats it, and then he starts circling her clit with slow, even strokes. She shivers against him - at his touch - clinging tightly to his shoulders and gasping into his mouth as he continues.

Every little noise coming out of her mouth, feeling how wet she is, how the slickness keeps growing growing growing makes Sebastian hungry for more - it isn't enough -

Slowly - so slowly - he wants to savor this moment - he lowers himself until he's kneeling between her legs and he looks up at her. Her face is deliciously flushed, all swollen lips and hair in a wild cloud around her face and all she can do is stare down at him. Her chest is heaving and she tries to close her legs - hide what is exposed to him - but he holds her thighs firmly in place on either side of his head. He turns his head and kisses her inner thigh, maintaining eye contact as he swipes his tongue across where he's just kissed, moving closer towards her slick center.

"Oh," she breathes, not-quite-a-word, not-quite-a-gasp, when his mouth reaches her center and hovers over it, lips slowly teasing her the way she had just teased him. Sebastian tentatively runs his tongue up her slit; the loud moan she lets out when he reaches her clit makes him stay there, applying light and not-so-light pressure in equal measure.

Her hands are scrabbling at his hair, digging into his scalp, ruining his earlier attempts to make it look presentable, hopefully attractive, for her these days. She's pushing his head deeper into the space between her legs, starting to rock herself slightly on his mouth, and Sebastian is happy to oblige. He eagerly laps up her slit, and the obscene wet noises as he continues combined with her whimpers and barely-spoken profanities "oh-yes-fuck-yes-there-please-" are making him hard beyond belief. He's straining against his trousers, begging to be let free. Without moving his face from her, he unbuttons his trousers and starts palming himself, using the slickness weeping out of the tip as lubrication.

She's abandoned all control at this point, grinding herself into his face as he laps her up, and it's driving him wild - knowing that he's doing this to her - causing her to be so undone. Normally she's so poised and aloof, never letting any real emotion flicker across her face, so to see her so desperate and needy and wanting him so -

Sebastian's gasping into her, tongue deep inside of her, "ohmygod" he hears her whisper, her hips driving into his face when she shudders and goes still, pulsing around the tongue that's deep inside of it. He slows down, smiling as he continues to run his tongue up her slit until she's responsive again. He kisses her inner thigh and hears her moan before getting up, caressing a finger down her love-struck face and leaning his head down to kiss her deeply. With his other hand he's still touching himself - the thought that she can taste herself on his tongue driving him crazy - and he starts rubbing its blunt head against her swollen clit. She takes it out of his hand- he groans at the feeling of her soft hands (the hands he had held a week ago in Divination and pictured doing this exact thing) tentatively caressing his length before she begins to slide it up and down her slit, coating it in her wetness.

Sebastian has surrendered all control to her - resting his hands on either side of her hips on the windowsill, tucking his head into the crook of her neck and thrusting with her movements as he loses himself in the sensation of sliding through her slick folds. He can feel his release building building building, and when he finally comes, all over her perfect, pink center, it feels like a finally.

Sebastian feels so, so heavy as he pulls his head away from her shoulder, as if he could fall into a blissful sleep right there, in the little window alcove where they've hidden themselves away. The sun has now set completely and they're in shadow as they stare at each other, the sound of their ragged breathing filling the tiny space.

"Sebastian, I..."

She's staring at him with an unfathomable expression on her face, still holding him in her hand, her other hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. They look down and he feels his face heat up even more at the mess he's made - he quickly pulls out his wand and cleans her up, before looking back at her, giving her a wry smile as he buttons up his pants and helps her off the ledge. "What did you want to talk to me about, again?"

She gives a slight shake of her head and looks away, but she can't hide the small smile that's growing on her face just like she can't help her eyes that keep wandering over to his. He knows the growing smile on his face matches hers - did that really just happen? She reaches over to lace her fingers through his as they walk around the suit of armor. "I - it's not important."

"Come on," he says, not being able to resist the opportunity to tease her - he's somehow managed to break through the barriers she's set up around her, and he's not about to let the opportunity slide. "Surely that's not what you had in mind when you..."

Sebastian trails off as he sees the expression in her face turn to one of horror - he didn't think his teasing was that bad, was it? - but she's also pulling her hand out of his like she's been burned and -

He follows her gaze, to where it's fixed at the end of the hallway and he knows that once again his face mimics hers. He will never live this down.

Standing at the end of the hallway and looking like two cats who've just found a huge dish of milk, are his sister and Imelda.

Misery.

Complete and utter misery are what she's feeling, if she has to put it into words, which she does. Writing things down always helps her out, helps her organize her thoughts into some sort of order. Except...this time around, it's not really helping. She can't seem to make any sense of her feelings for Sebastian.

She looks over the muddled mess of words she's written down - stream of consciousness, incomprehensible babble - and sighs. She's been dreaming of falling in love since she was a young girl - Jane Austen will do that to you - and can't believe that now that she's had her opportunity, it has to go and be with Sebastian Sallow. Because it has to be love, hasn't it?

There can be no other explanation for the painful way her stomach twists itself up whenever she catches a glimpse of him these days, the way he's consuming her every thought - even when she's dreaming she can't escape him. She can't get the sight of his tousled curls between her legs, his mischievous, warm brown eyes looking up at her as she had the most mind-numbing, toe-curling orgasm of her life - none of the times she's touched herself have ever come close to the sensations he managed to evoke.

Every time she's walking through the hallways between classes and hears his loud voice as he jokes with Garreth, or Ominis, about quidditch or Merlin-knows-what her eyes snap to his face as if he were the sun, and she a sunflower searching for its warmth. And he is most decidedly not the sun. He has the tendency to snort when he laughs, and he laughs too much, especially at his own jokes. Sometimes he talks while he eats. He always twirls his quill between his long fingers in the most annoying way, splattering ink onto any parchment unfortunate to be caught underneath. But he also...

He also always goes out of his way to prepare Ominis's Potions ingredients (why Ominis decided to take and was accepted into NEWT level is a mystery to everyone), occasionally stops to play a round of gobstones with Zenobia when he has the time. Sebastian can often be found in his favorite armchair in the Slytherin common room, resting his face on his hand as he idly flips through the pages of some book, looking altogether too handsome as he does so. And when he stretches and yawns at the end of every Arithmancy lesson - like he is now - his shirt lifts up a bit and she can see a tan sliver of his stomach and -

Snapping in front of her: she blinks and looks over: when she sees it's Imelda her face immediately turns beet red and she grabs the paper she's been doodling on and rips it to shreds as fast as she can.

"Are you fantasizing about a certain annoying someone?" Imelda asks with a wicked grin, dramatically looking over her shoulder at the certain someone in question. He's still stretching, blinking sleepily; when he notices the two girls watching him he flushes deeply. Her stomach twinges again at the sight of him noticing her - has he thought about her since that moment as much as she has? What would she do if he had? Or...if he hadn't? - and she focuses instead on the paper she is currently destroying.

"Imelda," she hisses, glaring at her best friend, "stop."

Imelda does not stop.

Imelda doesn't stop during their walk to Herbology, and she does not stop as they set up their planting stations, and she most certainly does not stop as they mutter charms over their plants.

Ever since she experienced the most wonderful moment in her whole life, followed by the most mortifying, Anne and Imelda have not stopped pestering her about it. They've finally solved the 'Sir Cadogan Puzzle' - I knew it was you all along, claims Anne - but if they truly knew what had happened between her and Sebastian, she's afraid the two of them would simply combust. She loves them dearly, but they never know when to stop, and they've been pushing and poking and prodding her for more information the whole week. She has managed to remain tight-lipped and, she hopes, mysterious about the whole thing, but she's getting tired of the teasing.

"Really," Anne says, wiping her forehead and leaving a trail of dirt behind, "if you would only talk to him, I would stop bothering you. Promise."

"Yes," chimes in Imelda, on her other side, wrestling the leaves of her own plant into submission. "You know, after we saw the two of you holding hands and looking at each other with stars in your eyes, I'm really starting to doubt that you hate him as much as you claim."

"Were the two of you snogging in secret all of last year too? Because, I'm starting to get annoyed thinking of all the times I had to talk to my brother for you because of your stubborn pride."

Does she still hate him? She certainly thinks she should, but then her thoughts get terribly confusing as she continues to think about him, and she realizes all of her old hatred has long since faded. Anne has forgiven her brother, Ominis has forgiven him, and all that remains is her.

They should talk, but she doesn't know what to say.

She's afraid that maybe the man she's been inventing in her mind this past month is simply a figment of her imagination - a fictitious being created by an accumulation of stolen glances when he doesn't know she's watching, someone who all of their classmates seem to like, someone who is very different from the fifteen-year-old boy she had that terrible argument with all that time ago. Maybe he doesn't actually exist.

She would be crushed if he's hiding the fact that he still holds on to that desperate darkness that had driven him to save Anne by any means necessary.

And so she keeps her space. She watches him from afar, feeling the hatred slowly melt off of her, falling more in love every day, but too cowardly to make the next move.

Anne and Imelda continue bantering on either side of her, not noticing - or, more likely, not caring - that she isn't participating.

Sebastian's hands are sweating. He wipes them on the inside of his robes as he glances at the girl next to him. She's holding herself rigidly, but she did this to herself, sitting next to him at dinner as she had.

Well, sitting next to him hadn't been completely her idea if he's being honest. He'd been having dinner with Anne, and the two of them were dying of laughter as she recounted seeing Duncan Hobhouse get tormented by Peeves earlier that day. One moment, Anne had been demonstrating what she had seen using her potatoes and green beans as props, and the next, a particularly evil grin had lit up her face as she pushed her plate away with gusto and jumped to her feet, calling her over.

"It would be such a shame for these potatoes to go to waste, seeing as I have a very important meeting to attend," Anne had said, after pushing her friend into the very tight space at Sebastian's side. "Never mind the mess, I can assure you I didn't actually eat the food..."

And with that, Anne had flounced away, Imelda on her arm, the two girls cackling to each other as they snuck wicked glances over their shoulders at the couple.

A couple who is now steadfastly avoiding each other and trying their hardest not to even brush elbows. Sebastian is altogether too aware of her presence, has been for the better part of a month, and his patience is dangerously close to snapping. He keeps getting maddeningly close to finally getting her to open up to him - had actually achieved it for a few blissful moments - just to have it be taken away again. It's almost embarrassing how many times he's thought about their encounter. She had been everything he'd been dreaming about and more - soft, responsive, just as desperate as him - so why has she been avoiding him so thoroughly?

Yes, he's caught her staring at him more times than he can count, with that same unfathomable expression she had before, almost dreamy - wistful - could it be love? But he knows that it's preposterous, wishful thinking on his part. If it were love - if she felt the same crazy, tumultuous emotions that he was feeling constantly - she wouldn't be so cold towards him. Even if she was staring at him more than ever before.

He doesn't notice as she slips a folded paper into the book sitting next to his plate, but he does notice that she sits next to him for barely five minutes, not even touching the food that Anne has so graciously left her, before she gets up and slips away without so much as speaking a single word to him, or even looking in his direction at all.

Sebastian's sitting in a nearly empty common room after curfew, flipping through his book as he normally does this time of day, when she sees him pause.

Although she's been waiting for this moment, watching him from the corner she's tucked herself away in, she feels ready to pass out from nerves. Her heart's ready to burst out of her chest as she watches him curiously pick up the letter she slipped in his book earlier, brow furrowed. She wrings her hands nervously as she watches him read the letter and flip over the page to see if there's more, and then he goes back to read it again from the beginning.

She wasn't expecting him to read it a second time, let alone a third time, still with an inscrutable expression on his face. Maybe she should have positioned herself closer so she could see every emotion flickering through his face as he reads - she's too far away to see anything and she curses her lack of foresight. If she moves now, he'll see her, and she doesn't even know what she was thinking when she wrote the letter, when she managed to convince Anne to help her get close to Sebastian earlier that night during supper, when she moved herself to sit in this corner just so she could watch him find and read the -

"Hello."

She nearly jumps out of her skin with a muffled shriek at the sound of his voice so close to her. Why does she feel almost guilty when she looks up at him? She's so, so afraid.

Emotions have never come easily to her. Showing them is something she's not sure will ever come naturally - Anne and Imelda can laugh and shout without a care in the world, but she always holds herself back. Hides a small part of herself away, that only she knows about. Baring herself completely to Sebastian in the letter she feverishly wrote the day before was like ripping out a part of her soul and giving it to him to keep. Once the words were written down, there was no way to take them back, not that she wants to.

But what if he rejects her?

Her eyes get hot and tears cloud her vision as she stares up at him, still wringing her hands together over and over, feeling like she's positively going to burst with the force of the emotions roiling around inside of her. Why did she think this would be a good idea?

Now he's kneeling in front of her, holding her hands in his bigger, rougher ones - reminiscent of that fateful day so long ago in Divination when he had flustered her so - and a thumb is gently wiping away the big, fat tears she didn't even realize were rolling down her cheeks and she lifts her face from watching their intertwined hands and gazes tremulously into his eyes.

They are so, so gentle and warm and full of love, but the emotions are still too much for her and she can't stop crying for some unfathomable reason, so the kiss they share is wet and lovely and full of incredulous laughter.

"I love you too," he whispers between kisses, over and over again, until the words almost lose meaning - but these words could never lose their meaning when they come from him.

  In the years to come, they always bicker about who was the first to say it. Sebastian says that writing doesn't count - that his words are the ones that decide who is the victor in this small argument - but she always just smiles at his insistence, knowing that he's kept her letter tucked inside whatever book he's reading since it first fell onto his lap.

[samcvrpenters]

word count: 1.4k+

pairing: vampire! infatuated! dark! caitlyn kiramman x fem! human! reader

summary: centuries old caitlyn kiramman becomes obsessed with everything about you, leading her to damage the village you reside in and all of your relationships to get you

warnings: stalking, reader has a relationship with a man (at first), murder, burning alive, she terrorises the village to get her hands on you, kind of like nosferatu but not exactly the same, set in the past, fire doesn’t affect vampires, idk i have mixed feelings about this

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

her gaze pierces through the iced window of the room that she had found herself in. she had kicked out the previous owner of the room, muttering something incomprehensible about needing the room to birdwatch or something, and had found that the old woman offered no resistance and allowed her the room with no trouble.

of course, it was suspicious enough that an individual that had hardly been seen of in the town had suddenly acted aggressively towards one of the elderly, yet it was worse when all the navy haired woman seemed to stare out of the window.

nobody would blame her and would perhaps justify her actions if they knew why. in her opinion, she was free to do whatever she wanted to and being able to stare at the cottage opposite of her was a good enough reason to her.

she’s waiting. she’s been waiting for months on end. for you.

you’ve been on a trip for ages, and she had been so tempted to just go out and find you, just so she could keep an eye on you, but she somehow managed to restrain her primal instincts and now she just felt so lucky to see you hauling bags out of that carriage.

she wishes she could run down the stairs and help you with that. in fact, she would. but the carriage driver offers a smile in your direction and helps you with your bags, placing them down on your doorstep before bidding you farewell.

she can see every facial feature from where she is. the slight flush of your cheeks because of the cold. the small particles of snow that are scattered on your body and the sleeves of your clothes. she can see how it has melted— only slightly— in your hair, which makes your scalp a little damp.

however, her expression turns into a scowl when she sees the village’s rather eligible bachelor, one of the men with expensive looking clothes and a bouquet of white roses, rushing towards you and almost sweeping you off your feet as he lets them rest in your hands. she can hear the conversation from up in the room. she can hear the surprised laugh and she can almost hear your joy.

“my love,” the man begins, leaning forward as he holds your back, your feet hardly touching the ground because of the way he scooped you up. “how was your trip? satisfactory, i assume?”

“rather so.” your response is sweet. your voice is sweet. everything about you is sweet. caitlyn would do anything to get a taste of you and your blood.

why can’t you be hers already? why can’t you wrap your arms around her neck and tell her that she’s everything you want and adore? why can’t she be the one to sweep you off of your feet and not let go? why is she not the one to do all of those things that she deserves to do?

she could treat you so well. but it’s not like you know her. no, not really. she doesn’t know if you’ve seen her before. but what if you’ve dreamt of someone like her? what if you daydream of some supernatural being to come and save you?

caitlyn turns ever so slightly, forcing her eyes away from the scene from outside, not wanting her mind to distort and her sanity to slip away at the sight.

she fears it may be too late.

night soon comes around, and caitlyn finds herself in the same place. she hasn’t left. not really. she paced around the room, ideas running in and out of her head. they were unstoppable— a force to be reckoned with. she wants to take the candle illuminating the room and shove the wax against the man. watch him scream at the heat. finish him off with a quick bite.

unless he wasn’t worth her mercy. she could drain him. she could bite, leave him, let him bleed out. but he could get help. he could survive.

and she obviously doesn’t want that. she wants him out of the way. if he ends up in some cottage hospital with burns and bite marks, all you’re going to do is get more cautious. you’ll be paranoid, and you’ll worry that some monster was getting too close to you, and you’d demand his protection. and of course he would be willing to accept.

her gaze flickers back towards the window, and she immediately notices that he’s out there. her instincts were right. he’s left. he’s leaving you vulnerable. she doesn’t want you vulnerable.

not to other people, anyway. she doesn’t mind if you’re a little weak for her.

she’s stumbling out of the room, barely closing the door behind her. it’s not like she needs to, she has no belongings and she doesn’t really mind if anyone takes it. because now she has to get to work and you’re the reason why.

the sky is clear— a blue that shows winter is only getting colder. the village is silent. night had passed by in a flash, yet nobody knew anything was different. not until they saw it— the flickering embers in the distance. the way the smoke curled up into what was meant to be a fresh, clean sky.

it seemed it had only just been lit, because it would have been covering the sky in the thick cloud of smoke if it had been set aflame for longer.

and so he hangs, hands tied to wood with flimsy rope, it barely gripping onto the sticks that were positioned upwards. the so-called love of your life was being burnt to a crisp because of some obsession a vampire had with you.

water from the stream had been gathered by the braver people, scooped up in buckets and thrown onto what seemed to be a classic ‘burnt at the stake’ movement, trying to drench the fire and get him down from what seemed to be a rather unpredicted and unfortunate demise.

of course you were upset. he gifted you flowers! he was the one who made you blush. he took care of you. and now he’s gone, and nobody knows why.

rumours began to circulate. bits and pieces of gossip that were strung together to create a lie.

that some extraterrestrial creature had found their village and was creating hell upon it. that they were being prepared for invasion. it was a sick idea, really. one that wasn’t true. but it was the only thing that people could actually string together.

and the worst thing was that it kept happening.

the more rich people of the village started burning, too. sometimes they were in groups. sometimes it was made into a big spectacle. sometimes it was a more lazy act— just throwing people onto what was basically a big fireplace and letting them burn.

of course you’re afraid. you don’t want to go out. you lock yourself in your house, telling yourself again and again that it was secure enough to have that fate put upon you.

but caitlyn would never do that to you.

she’s just getting rid of everyone that cared about you so that you wouldn’t exactly mind it when she dragged you with her.

“it’s a shame you’re so likeable.” caitlyn mutters to herself as she drags a body on the floor. she’s strong, so it doesn’t really tire her out. but of course her thoughts are on you. they’re constantly on you. “so many people have to suffer.”

and she piles it up, on top of another couple of bodies, which were already in flames.

fate is cruel. everyone knows that. the poems write that. the novels write that. everything points towards the fact that fate is cruel. and it truly is, because why does this have to be the one day that you walk out to go and get bread?

why do you have to meet her like this? covered in blood and the fire not affecting her?

she sees the horror upon your face. she wishes she could take it away. but she’s unable to, because you turn and you run. you waste no time, dropping everything in your hands and trying to head to a public place, somewhere anyone would be.

your movements are frantic. she doesn’t care. she will have to get you now. there’s no argument about it. she has no choice.

it just depends on whether you’ll accept it or not.

[catssluvr]

wilderness nat love languages headcanons <3

quality time:

⭑.ᐟ Spending time with you is her favorite thing and that means staying awake at night after a long day, even with her eyes practically begging to be closed, just to be able to enjoy your presence for a little moment.

⭑.ᐟ Loves to swim in the lake with you. Goofing around and tackling you into the water for the whole time. Splashes water onto your face when you’re not paying attention, mumbling fake apologies as she hugs you in a tight embrace and giggles at your scowl.

⭑.ᐟ Takes you hunting with her even if you’re not that good at it, will lie to the others if she has to because who has to know you’re not good with a gun? She can just do it all herself while you walk pretty beside her.

⭑.ᐟ Takes you to the crashed plane or to a nice hidden place so you can both talk about whatever you want or even just sit in a comfortable silence.

words of affirmation:

⭑.ᐟ At first might struggle a bit to tell you of everything she thinks of but will quickly get used to the fact that she will only gain by giving you compliments and expressing the appreciation you deserve.

⭑.ᐟ Tells you she loves you every single day, mostly at more vulnerable times like when you’re both laying inside her hut before sleep or right after waking up. Will whisper it like a prayer into your ear as she kisses your temple gently.

⭑.ᐟ Is the best at reassuring you whenever you feel scared to do something or just at comforting you in general. Tells you about how brave she thinks you are and how you can do anything if you really want to.

⭑.ᐟ Compliments by Nat are given in the most gentle way, in a way you know she means every single word she’s saying.

⭑.ᐟ Will randomly throw compliments like she’s saying something else, telling you about how your hair looks pretty that day before continuing on with whatever task she’s doing.

⭑.ᐟ Whispers them in a more meaningful way when you’re having intimate moments, her eyes burning into your skin like a love flame. Like she’s desperate to just take you all in at once.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby.”

acts of service:

⭑.ᐟ Always tries to have your plate be a bit more filled when you’re particularly hungry, even if that means she will eat less. Sneaks berries into your pocket when nobody is watching, casting you a gentle smile as she does so.

⭑.ᐟ Makes sure you have the warmest furs and sleeps in the side of the bed that’s closest to the entrance of her hut, instinctively wanting to keep you protected.

⭑.ᐟ Silently fixes your hair out of your face or even braids it when she notices it’s bothering you in hotter days, all this without waiting to be asked and simply happy to be of any help to you.

⭑.ᐟ Always has your back, defending you when someone tries to start an argument with your or acuse you of anything. Might even take the blame just so that you don’t get punished for something stupid, mostly in the last months of being in the wilderness.

⭑.ᐟ Does your chores when you’re not feeling particularly well because of your period for example , filling up your bottle of water and bringing you food to the hut. Even warms up some water and presses a warm cloth to your stomach to help with the pain.

physical touch:

⭑.ᐟ Considers the touch something crucial in your relationship, saving it mostly for when you’re both alone and get to touch each other as much as you want.

⭑.ᐟ Cuddles up to you at night, hugging your waist with a sluggish arm and nuzzling into your neck, occasionally murmuring incoherent words into it. When you make fun of her bed hair in the morning she will bury her face in your chest and pout like a baby until you kiss it off.

⭑.ᐟ When you’re sitting by the fire she will have her shoulder pressed to yours, taking glances at you once in a while. Sometimes she feels brave enough to interlace her fingers with yours or even lay her head on your shoulder in a sleepy affectionate gesture.

⭑.ᐟ Takes you somewhere private after hunts so you can finally kiss without getting interrupted by any of the girls. Making out until it gets late and you absolutely have to get back or they will get worried.

⭑.ᐟ Her hands will explore you all when she’s kissing you, trying to memorize every single detail of you. Fingers tracing your skin softly as she litters kisses from your jaw to your neck.

⭑.ᐟ Adores playful touches like tickles or gentle bites, mostly if they don’t fail to make you laugh at her antics.

gift giving:

⭑.ᐟ There’s not many options of gifts out in the wilderness but Nat really tries to make an effort at finding meaningful things. Will bring you little pebbles that she found to be pretty on a walk or get one every time you two go out into the woods some time together just to keep the memory eternal.

⭑.ᐟ On spring brings you colorful flowers and sometimes even helps you braid them into your hair. Starts with just picking a random flower in the nature but quickly evolves into making you the prettiest bouquets that she asks one of the girls to help her with.

⭑.ᐟ Makes bandanas and air bands for you with clothes that she won’t be wearing. She even makes two if the fabric is big enough so that you both get to be matching each other.

⭑.ᐟ Gives you on of her rings so you get to keep a bit of her at all times, it’s basically your promise ring. Kisses it whenever you’re holding hands.

[lvnleah]

hi i have a request for kyra!☺️

R and kyra have been together for a year now, (r is not a footballer or famous) but the girls never met her,never seen her or even seen a photo or her so they all make fun of her for having “an imaginary girlfriend” and joke around with her.

the reason why they never met her is cause r is very shy ,awkward and get very nervous and uncomfortable around new and a lot of people. One day though kyra ends up convincing her and takes her with her to meet the girls. They all very much shocked cause they really thought kyra was lying about the gf lol🤣, but then they get even more shocked when they see a side of kyra that they never saw. Her being so lovely,kind and soft with r who a first is a little bit overwhelmed but then ends up relaxing and enjoying the night. the can see how much kyra and r love each other’s and they’re happy for them

actually real | kyra cooney-cross.

“I swear, she’s real.” Kyra groaned as her teammates teased her over you. 

“Sure she is,” Katie smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Sure you have a girlfriend, and she’s totally not just some made-up person you tell us about so we don’t think you’re lonely.”

Kyra rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned forward. “I do have a girlfriend, and you lot are just mad you haven’t met her yet.”

“I mean, can you blame us?” Steph piped up, grinning. “You’ve been with her for what, a year? And not one of us has even seen a picture? C’mon, Ky, you’ve got to admit, it’s a little suspicious.”

Beth let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god, is it because she’s actually famous, and she doesn’t want to be seen with you?”

More laughter followed, and Kyra groaned, rubbing her hands down her face. “She’s not famous. She’s just—” She hesitated, not wanting to overshare about you. “She’s shy. And she doesn’t like big groups. It’s not that weird.”

Lotte smirked, tilting her head. “Right. So, what you’re saying is your girlfriend, who nobody has ever met, doesn’t come around because she’s conveniently ‘shy’?”

Caitlin leaned into Katie, whispering just loud enough for Kyra to hear, “It’s getting a bit sad at this point, isn’t it?”

The team erupted into laughter again, and Kyra groaned.

They had been at this for months. Every time she talked about you, even just little things, like how you made her tea in the mornings or how you always sent her the sweetest texts before a game the teasing would start.

But she couldn’t even be mad at them. They didn’t mean anything by it. They just didn’t understand.

Because you were real.

And Kyra adored you.

But you also happened to be incredibly anxious and extremely uncomfortable around big groups of new people, which made introducing you to her team a little difficult.

And she respected that. She never wanted to push you into something you weren’t ready for.

But still.

She really wanted her teammates to know that she wasn’t just making you up.

It took a while, but eventually, she convinced you after coming home that evening. 

It wasn’t easy. There had been a lot of anxious rambling on your part, a lot of reassurance on hers, but finally, finally, you had agreed to come to the team’s bonding night.

Kyra practically threw herself onto the couch beside you, draping herself over your lap dramatically as she let out an exaggerated groan.

“Baby, please please please come to my team bonding night!” she whined, her voice filled with desperation.

You sighed, setting your phone down as you glanced down at her. “Kyra…”

She lifted her head just enough to meet your gaze, giving you her best pout. “They think I’m making you up, babe. Making you up.” She groaned again, “Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

You bit your lip, not wanting to smile, but she was making it really difficult not to.

“Ky, you know I don’t like big groups,” you murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “It’s not that I don’t want to meet them, I just—”

“I know,” she said softly, her teasing tone disappearing for a moment. She sat up slightly, resting her weight on her elbow as she reached for your hand. “And I would never make you do something you’re uncomfortable with. But I promise you, they’re great. And they’re going to love you.”

You exhaled, squeezing her hand. “I just… what if I get too overwhelmed?”

“Then we leave,” she said without hesitation. “No questions asked. You just give me the word, and we’re out of there.”

Your lips pressed together, anxiety still bubbling in your chest. You didn’t like meeting new people. You weren’t even sure how you met Kyra because your anxiety ruled your life. Literally. 

Kyra shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll be with you the whole time. I won’t let go of your hand. You don’t even have to talk much. Just sit with me, let me hold you, and let them see that you do exist.”

That pulled a small laugh from you, and Kyra grinned.

“Just think about it,” she murmured, “I want them to see the person who makes me happiest. But if it’s too much, you say the word, and we’ll stay home, order takeout, and make fun of their Instagram stories instead.”

You exhaled slowly, your nerves still present but softened by her unwavering support.

“…Okay,” you whispered.

Kyra’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

She grinned, pressing a flurry of quick kisses to your face, making you giggle. “You’re the best, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “You owe me for this.”

“Anything you want, baby,” she said easily, wrapping her arms around you. “Anything at all.”

That conversation was how you found yourself sitting in Kyra’s car, anxiously twisting the hem of your sweater between your fingers as she drove toward the restaurant.

“I can’t do this,” you mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Kyra glanced over, reaching for your hand. “Yes, you can,” she said softly, squeezing it. “And we’ll leave the second you want to. No questions asked.”

You exhaled shakily, squeezing her hand in return.

“I’ll be right next to you the whole time,” she promised, her voice as gentle as ever. “You don’t even have to talk much.”

You let out a nervous laugh, but it wasn’t untrue.

“I love you, okay?” she murmured, bringing your hand up to press a soft kiss against your knuckles.

You nodded, trying to take comfort in the fact that, no matter how overwhelming this night might feel, at least you had her.

The second you walked into the restaurant, the room went silent. You could feel their eyes on you immediately, and it took everything in you not to shrink into Kyra’s side or run straight out.

But Kyra didn’t hesitate. She slipped her arm around your waist, keeping you close in a way that felt both protective and reassuring.

Steph was the first to break the silence. “No. Fucking. Way.”

Leah blinked, looking genuinely taken aback. “You actually have a girlfriend?”

Caitlin nudged Katie. “We owe her an apology.”

Kyra rolled her eyes but grinned nonetheless, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before looking at her teammates. “Told you so.”

Beth leaned forward on the table, squinting at you. “Are we sure she’s real?” she asked playfully. “Like, she’s not just some paid actress you hired for the night?”

You let out a nervous laugh, but Kyra immediately squeezed your hand. “You lot better behave,” she warned, though the fondness in her voice softened the words.

The team, to their credit, didn’t push too hard. They were obviously curious, but they kept things light, introducing themselves in a way that wasn’t overwhelming.

Kyra helped you settle into your seat, keeping her hand on your knee, rubbing soothing circles against your skin whenever she noticed you getting fidgety. As the night went on, you slowly started to relax.

What surprised the team the most wasn’t you, though.

It was Kyra.

They had never seen her like this.

They knew her as competitive, fiery, always up for a laugh or prank but with you, she was soft.

She was attentive, making sure you always had what you needed. She never let go of your hand unless you needed it free, and even then, she’d find another way to keep contact. Whether it was her knee brushing against yours or her arm resting behind you on the booth or her foot lightly tapping against your ankle under the table, she was always touching you. 

She was patient, whispering little reassurances to you whenever she noticed you getting overwhelmed. And she was so in love with you.

It was obvious in the way she looked at you, in the way she softened every time you spoke, in the way she seemed completely and utterly focused on making sure you were comfortable.

“Okay, I get it now,” Katie muttered to Caitlin at one point. “She’s whipped.”

Caitlin grinned. “Properly in love, is she feeling okay?”

Kyra just smiled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek before whispering, “You okay, love?”

You nodded, feeling more at ease than you had in a long time. Because yes, the night had been scary at first but it had also been filled with laughter, gentle reassurances, and the unwavering presence of the girl you loved.

And by the end of it, when Kyra helped you into your jacket and kissed the top of your head, “Proud of you, imaginary girlfriend.”

[thewritingfairy]

I'm really curious on what may happen if reader die because of the meds+drugs combo.

Because this mean that Bruce didn't just broke his no killing roule. He broke it by killing an innocent civilian, by killing his child, his one blood, his first born, his only normal kid. The child he never tried to know, the child he only hurted to the point they can't trust him with anything.

How will he call himself a hero or a father after this? How can he say he wanted to protect the children when he killed his child with his own hands?

How can he even mourn who he doesn't know?

And what about the rest of the family? What will they do? How will they react? Especially Alfred. Will they drown themselves more in their delusions or will this be the slap that force them to see all their wrongs? Or will they all turn on Bruce because it's easier to condemn the evil of the others then to condemn the evil of oneself?

I also imagine if the reader died when they just came back to the manor in front of Alfred. And despite all the effort it was too late.

Also, what about reader's friends and loved ones? They have the evidences that reader gave them. So I guess they will probably release them. (Will They?)

And how will Gotham react to all this? Do you believe they will reach the Idea that Bruce killed his child on purpose to silence them? And what about the justice league? Finding out all of this about Batman.

Sorry if the ask is too long, I know it will probably need a lot to answer everyvone of my questions. I hope it doesn't bother you.

-😶‍🌫️

story mentioned: Nobody's child bad ending You aren't bothering me at all! In fact I am glad you enjoy my stories enough to do ask this many questions :D. I will be answering in a condensed matter how ever, so it's easier to understand, but I am also very chaotic right now lmfao.

if Reader dies? Bruce will be gutted, because he's the reason. Not your illness, but your medication. Medication he modified. He'll feel like he's the joker, he feels like he's no different than the man who killed his second son. Something that destroys Jason as well, he knows he's the reason for this as well. Dick will cry himself to sleep, Damian will return to old habits, Barbara will be frozen in time slowly turning in a sad version of herself, Cassandra will throw herself in her work and Stephanie will believe she is no better than her father once more.

Tim will blame himself the most, he'll blame himself for ignoring your neglect and he'll blame yourself for ignoring the families red flags. And he'll blame himself for following along, for making it impossible for you to leave behind the scenes.

Bruce can no longer call himself a hero, and neither can his family (except Duke) because when your friends and Duke will expose the evidence that you had already gathered.

Your friends will burn the Wayne family to the ground, with videos of you. With creating a wake for you larger than Jason's every what. 

Besides that Duke would expose their secret identities as the Signal, he would expose your death for as it is.

And the Penguin? He would make their life hard even if the law doesn't fail you. They will be shouted at, attacked whenever and they will lose all respect in every world that exists. The criminal, the hero and the civilian world.

But as to how Gotham will react to this? They knew your mother, her soul. And they knew you were a version of her, a version that needed protection that your family couldn't give you. And Duke failed to deliver.

The justice league will pretend that they have no connection to them, that they didn't know about you. Because they didn't, they didn't. But Superman could have saved you, yet didn't.

From the Kent family Conner would take it the worst. He would fight Tim to the bone and leave him bleeding on the pavement with no remorse, he would do the same to Bruce.

[tiza0925]

Hi!...umm could you pls do a NSFW tanjiro x reader where reader starts to get jealous of kanao bcos kanao has started to gain feeling for tanjiro and has been trying to get close with him but she doesn't know that reader and tanjiro are secretly dating so reader ends up distancing herself from everyone and when tanjiro confronts reader they end up in a mating press+overstimulation and a bit breeding kink 😳

(Pls don't get me wrong I luv Kanao but I haven't seen any fanfictions like this and I'm sorry if this request is too much)😅

Take care 😊

only you | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, explicit sexual content, jealous!reader, afab/female reader, unprotected sex, mating press, creampie, breeding kink, reassurance, Tanjiro loves you so much, multiple orgasms (implied), overstimulation, soft!dom Tanjiro, ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS ARE AGED UP AND OVER 18 YEARS-OLD

Pairing: Tanjiro Kamado x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You feel two thick fingers shove inside your mouth, the fingertips hooking onto your bottom teeth to pull your head forward to look into sinful red eyes. 

You blink blearily, tears blur your vision, and you choke with a sob as drool drips down the corners of your mouth. 

“Already crying?” You hear Tanjiro murmur, voice sweet and low, a huge contrast to the brutal thrusts he’s been giving you—fucking your sore cunt with the intent to make you pass out. “Too much for you now, hm?”

You suck in a sharp breath, moaning around his fingers, and your eyes roll back when Tanjiro leans in to have his head near your ear—causing his cock to sink in deeper that you swear you feel him in your throat. 

“I’m sorry, love, but you’ll have to hold on for a little longer,” His voice rumbles against you, rolling through your ear as his lips graze the shell of your ear. “I still need to cum inside you, okay?” 

If you weren’t currently getting fucked to the point where you can feel Tanjiro’s dick in your soul and your mind wasn’t a puddle of liquid pleasure—

You would probably laugh at yourself for being in the situation you’re in at the very moment. 

Because none of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for Kanao.

And now you’re torn between still wanting to be mad at Kanao and also wanting to give her a hug of gratitude for getting Tanjiro like this. 

Not because Kanao directly told Tanjiro to fuck you like he’s some madman. 

Instead, funnily enough, it was Kanao who was the one that wanted Tanjiro for herself. 

It was obvious with the way you’d watch her laugh at his jokes that weren’t even that funny sometimes. 

Or the way you’ve noticed Kanao would leave light touches on Tanjiro’s hand and arm—brief but still giving the message that she wants more from him—whenever you were all out on the field training. 

You’ve seen the way Kanao looked at Tanjiro. 

And honestly—you don’t blame her. 

Tanjiro is an attractive guy. 

Not only in his face but his demeanor, how polite he is. Smart, funny, and god—have you seen him without a shirt? 

So you get why Kanao acts that way—even more recently, now, as Tanjiro started to train more and grew a little taller. 

It’s why you’re dating him, in the first place. 

But nobody knows that. 

You two didn’t want to get in trouble—dating within the Corps wasn’t allowed. 

But you guys couldn’t help it. 

He liked you, and you didn’t want to lose out on the chance of having him to yourself. 

The only issue with keeping your relationship with Tanjiro a secret—

Is that people, like Kanao, will try to get with him instead. 

Because in their eyes—he’s single. 

In Kanao’s eyes—Tanjiro is available for her. 

And at first—you didn’t care. 

You both knew what would happen once you kept this relationship a secret. 

People will still flirt—it happened to you many times by other guys. 

But you were always polite to let them down—made up some lie about wanting to focus on becoming a better slayer and all. 

And Tanjiro said the same thing to Kanao once before—and she listened. 

Admired him from far away. 

And you were okay with that. 

Until—

Until Kanao started to get handsy. Gradually.  

Until her small crush developed into something more for Tanjiro—and she wasn’t so subtle about it anymore. 

You were okay with it until Kanao and Tanjiro got a little closer—and you had to sit back with your teeth pinching your tongue, watching and doing nothing about it. 

And over time—it got to you. 

It’s not that you don’t trust Tanjiro—because this man has done nothing but respect and show you immense trust and security in your relationship. 

And he never flirted with Kanao back. 

But that doesn’t mean you trust Kanao. 

Not when Tanjiro is, in general, a really nice guy. 

Nice to the point where Kanao can mistake it for flirting. 

And if you couldn’t say anything about it—because what can you say without blowing your guys’ secret? 

‘Hey, stop flirting with Tanjiro because—‘ 

Because what? You like him?

That he’s yours? 

It was futile and you hated it. 

…Hence, why you started to distance yourself. 

From a few others at first. 

But then it started to turn into you making an excuse to not talk to Tanjiro. 

That distancing turned into you avoiding him as much as you can. 

Because it hurt. 

You can’t flirt with Tanjiro in public as Kanao can 

And honestly—you genuinely thought you would get away with this whole ‘distancing thing'. 

It even got to the point where you thought that you and Tanjiro's relationship could possibly be over. 

And wouldn’t that be amazing for Kanao, huh? 

But then Tanjiro confronted you about it one night—and that…

That was something. 

The door to your dorm closes behind him as you both walk in, and it’s deadly silent. 

The tension is so thick that you can cut a knife through it, but you don’t say anything.

And for a moment—it remains silent. 

Just waiting for something to drop, to set off the bomb that’s been ticking for a while, now. 

And—

And then you hear Tanjiro let out a tired sigh, and you turn to see him rub a hand over his face as he looks at you, confused. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, now?” 

Your eyes widen, and surprise flashes through your pupils as you swallow hard, playing dumb as you avert your gaze. “There’s nothing wrong.” 

He lets out a derisive snort, sarcasm lacing his words “Really?” 

“Yes, really,” Your voice comes out flat, and you walk towards your bed while taking off your shirt. “You should go, I’m tired.” 

A lie. 

One that Tanjiro immediately detects as he shakes his head and follows you. “Not until we talk this out first.” 

That’s the thing that also made you fall for him—is how big he is on communication. 

It’s something you generally love about him—except for this very moment. 

Because talking about how stupidly jealous you are will get you emotional—you can already feel the damn lump beginning to form in your throat. 

You try to ignore him as you set up the bed, sniffling. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

Tanjiro huffs out a breath, his voice soft and pleading. “Don’t lie to me.”

You purse your lips, your teeth clenching. “You should go rest.” 

You feel him closer behind you, his body heat near yours, and his voice is so confused. “Was it something I said?” 

The breath you let out is shaky, feeling guilty for making him think he’s at fault here. 

Because he’s not but emotions are a bitch and it’s starting to get to you. 

You swallow thickly. “No.” 

Another step closer to you. 

“Was it something someone else said?” 

Your voice is a little strained. “…No.” 

“Did someone do something? Did I do something—?”

And at this point—something kind of just…snaps. 

“I don’t know,” You don’t mean to have any bite in your words, but you’re just so frustrated and overwhelmed and feel so stupid for the way you’re acting that it all just hits you at once as you sniffle, your voice cracking. “Why don’t you go ask your little girlfriend, Kanao?”

And then—

Everything turns silent. 

You can hear the soft ringing in your ears right after you say that. 

You can feel your heart thumping rapidly with regret flushing your cheeks and your stomach drops. 

Fuck. 

You didn’t mean to say that out loud. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

You feel a rough hand wrap around your wrist, and the next thing you know—

You’re being spun around—and your vision is instantly met with big, red eyes. 

And your breath hitches in your throat soon after when you take in Tanjiro’s expression because—

He doesn’t look mad at you. 

He looks…worried. 

Almost regretful in a way. 

“That’s what this is all about?” 

He asks, sounding incredulous and confused, looking at you patiently for you to answer. 

God—you feel so irrational now—

“I…” You start, not sure what to say with the way he’s looking at you like that, and you gulp. “…It’s not—”

“Oh, love,” Tanjiro sighs. Low and heavy—full with understanding once he takes a good look at you—and his eyebrows crinkle with focus as he brings you closer to him—tucking your head under his chin as he wraps his arms, full of muscles and warmth, around you. “You have no reason to be jealous of her, you know.” 

Your lower lip wobbles. “I know—”

“But,” He stops you, and you let out a shaky breath, “I’m sorry for not realizing it sooner.” 

Fuck.

You close your eyes, feeling guilty for even making him have to say that because—

“It’s not your fault,” You mutter, but Tanjiro simply shakes his head, sounding firm. 

 “No, I should’ve made stricter boundaries with Kanao—which I will do when I see her.” 

“I don’t want to tell you what to do with your friends, though.” 

Tanjiro frowns and tips his chin down to give your forehead an achingly gentle kiss, mumbling against your head. “How you feel is more important to me.”

Well, that’s just not fair. 

You both stay like that for a bit—simply hugging and being in the other’s arms. 

It’s silent again but this time it’s comfortable. 

But then at some point—

“Hey,” Reluctantly, you lift your head to look at him, and Tanjiro’s eyes soften as he gives your lips a soft, gentle kiss. “You’re the only one I want, you know.” 

You whimper, feeling a small shiver crawl up your spine. 

He guides your mouth open with his, his warm tongue sliding against your lower lip. “You’re the only one I want to kiss.” 

His hands on you grow firmer, almost possessive, as he pulls you closer to him—and you let out a small moan. 

He kisses you so deeply that you feel it in your bones, and he starts to walk you towards the bed—the bend of your knees hitting the edge, causing your back to fall and land on the soft cushion beneath. 

And he follows, holding you close to him, his mouth traveling to your ear and giving it a small nip, his voice rough against you, “You’re the only one I want to be inside of, too.” 

God. 

You feel yourself throb and you throw your arms around his neck as your legs wrap around him—kissing him back just as deeply, moaning into his mouth because this is the Tanjiro that you want. 

This is what you need from him right now. 

…Which is how, moments later, you end up the way you are right now. 

Cheeks red and shiny from tears. 

Your head foggy and ready to explode. 

Body so exhausted and numb from the way he’s been fucking you—holding you down with your legs thrown over his shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he presses your legs against your chest—

And he’s fucking you through your third orgasm, all while you cry around his fingers, clinging onto whatever your hands can find as Tanjiro pushes down on you—groaning at just how pretty you look. 

“Only made for me, love,” Tanjiro breathes heavily, kissing one of your tears, before looking back at you with a small grin. “You take me so well.”

You whine, and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth—your saliva shiny on his fingers—and he uses the same hand to wrap around your neck, putting one of your most vulnerable parts into his hand. 

“And I’m gonna make sure I get you all full with my cum.” 

That’s another thing about him. 

It’s the way he is in bed. 

He can be gentle but—

But there’s just this edge to him that makes your head spin and turn into mush. 

It’s the way he talks with words that sound sweet with the tone he uses, even if they’re filthy—as if each word has been dipped in sin-filled chocolate. 

It’s the way he fucks you with so much love and yet still manages to make you feel boneless and fucked stupid like some slut. 

And that little, spiteful, part of you grins—knowing that no one else gets to experience this side of him except you. 

Not even Kanao. 

He fucks you deep and slow, your fluids gushing out and getting both of you so wet that you can hear the sweet squelch of your pussy getting abused by his cock. 

Your clit is overstimulated from his body rubbing against it with every thrust—that your muscles tense and heat is constantly sparking in your lower belly.

He goes until he starts talking about breeding you—filling your sweet cunt with his cum and keeping it there until your belly is full with his babies and—

“God, love—”

And then you hear him groan, and Tanjiro kisses you as soon as his orgasm pushes through him—and he’s pumping his cum inside your pulsing cunt, filling you to the brim. 

It’s messy. 

You’re both so goddamn messy and out of breath by the time he cools down. 

But you don’t care. 

Even if your pussy is sore and wet and you know you’ll need a shower right after this—

And even if his breathing is heavy—hell, he feels heavy on top of you—

You like it. 

It’s welcoming. 

He kisses you again, this time slow and indulgent, and you feel yourself go numb at his words that get murmured right against you, “I’m all yours, okay?” 

End. 

Masterpost

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Can you do a jinx x reader where r is basically a dog.

Like they follow her around and do what she says. Like scary dog privilege but the scary one is actually jinx.

She Loves Me Like A Dog

You loving her so much often times confuses her

She could do anything to you, and you’d still come back and love her

Even sometimes acting like you love her even more

At first when you followed her around like a shadow, she didn’t really mind at first but then she got a bit confused

It was like all you wanted to do was be around her and spend time with her

Nobody really had done that for her before so it wasn’t something she was particularly used to

She enjoyed your company but she thought you would end up hating hers

So she tried to speed up the inevitable

She tried being mean, making you feel like you were stupid, incapable

She did this to self sabotage herself to avoid being hurt and then she could blame you if you left

Not herself

She saw how you just…took it?

Sometimes you would seem down; but then when she paid you just a sliver of attention all that love for her came back

And she hated it

How could you love her even after everything she has done to you

All the bad feelings she purposely made you feel?

You were like a dog who kept running back and loving someone who didn’t deserve your love

That's how jinx viewed your relationship

It took a long time for her to actually accept that you loved her and enjoyed her presence

So much so that you would give your love and time to her with unconditional purposes

Even if she is scared, she learned to love it

She loves how you always follow her, make sure she’s okay and love on her no matter what

And also she sort of gets scary dog privileges

Since you’re always at her back people have noticed

And they noticed the dirty as fuck looks you give people when they eat to close

Or when they touch her or talk about her in a way you do not like

She loves it so much

Sometimes she won’t admit it but she’ll purposely put someone in a situation or herself in a situation where it doesn’t end well

She can’t help it though

[minteagalaxea]

jelly coffin | jy. uso

jey uso . sucrose/dextrose series

genre: smut (minors dni) . some plot content warnings: wall/window sex . exhibitionism (?) . mild dollification . daddy kink . creampie . manhandling . age gap (reader is in early twenties) . afab reader (she/her pronouns) . unprotected sex (please use protection) . reader is kind of a bimbo (but cute) . implied mirror sex word count: 1.82k inspiration: jey as whc . my mom as a nail tech . press on nails . floor-to-ceiling windows . a post made in the whorehouse songs: "skin" by rihanna (x) . "unholy x taste" by sam smith x stray kids (x) read also: "matte stiletto" (x) . "magnetic almond" (x) note: thank you so so much always @spiicii for helping soundboard, that one post someone made and @lov3rla03 endorsing it. this is kinda fun and different to explore for my writing, but i'm excited! also so sorry i've been having a lot of mental fog, so this might not be some of my best work, but i really had fun writing it!

coffin nails taper from the base and squared off at the top to resemble its namesake, with straighter edges than its ballerina sister shape. they tend to look best at a medium or long length, and generally require an extension to strengthen the natural nail. this shape is great for elaborate designs due to the extra surface area presented.

jelly polishes have a translucent finish, appearing almost wet. it is often likened to lip gloss with its high shine and reflective finish. it can be layered underneath magnetic polish to create a “jelly cat eye”, or as the top coat over magnetic polish to create the increasingly trendy “glass cat eye” nail.

jey adored financing her nail appointments. that was one of the first things he wanted to do, even before they inked the contract and what forms of monetary support he would offer. he said that he loved the feeling of her nails on his skin when they first met. she had been attempting to do it herself for so long that it was a struggle. the first thing he did when she revealed that was to start paying for her appointments. every three weeks, like clockwork.

he tended to pick the designs, or at the very least, the colors. he liked it long on her, dainty and bubbly and fragile in ways that accented that. nudes that made her complexion glow, little pearls and rhinestones that sparkled just so under the sunlight. he liked it that way, he adored the elongated shape of her fingers and the ridges of the corners and the length that made her the prettiest little doll for him to play with. jey especially loved how those nails would dig and leave gentle rivulets into his biceps, working around to press into tight patterns of ink.

she loved watching him wrestle, seeing her daddy in all of his strength as he dominated the ring with his moves or his words. he left her in awe of his ability to connect with the crowd, hearing them yell his catchphrase like it was an invocation of greatness. she often watched from the safety of his dressing room, mostly because those noises tended to make her squirm and left her nerves tingling in all the wrong ways.

and, well, also because her daddy didn’t want to ruin her soft-toned outfits, dresses, and nails with the bustle of the crowd and all the chaos that tended to occur. “can’t have my little princess getting her nails dirty when she dresses up all nice for daddy now, can i?” he often told her, and she was often inclined to agree with him.

in any case, that sense of agreeance meant that she got to watch him at wrestlemania in a beautiful suite, getting to see the glitz and glamour of las vegas. she got to cheer her lungs out when he beat gunther with his own repertoire of moves. she was positive that she was louder than everyone in the booth, but nobody could blame her. her daddy just won, and he deserved a celebration of epic proportions, especially given the location.

las vegas always carried a certain air to it outside of the typical sex, sweat, and sin. yet, it also carried some type of magic as jey lifted her through the threshold of the hotel room. he barely got to shut the door before he unzipped her dress—a soft white silk that hugged her curvature right and brushed the middle of her thighs. she shivered as he maneuvered her to the floor-to-ceiling window the suite had, goosebumps prickling along her skin as jey rested her breasts against the cold glass.

he placed her hands above her head, fingers brushing the silk ribbons she tied around each wrist into a bow. “such a pretty little present for me,” he murmured, the tips of his fingers skating along her spine enticingly, “so cute and soft.”

“do you like my nails, daddy?” she preened, resisting the urge to arch back into him when he applied his chest to their back. she heard his groan as he saw the reflection of her nails in the glass. in the hazy reflective quality of the glass, she saw how his eyes lingered too long on the translucent nude mauve polish adorning her fingers with the delicate lines of chrome. each turn had it reflecting beautifully in the warm lamplight and cool cityscape.

she knew her nail technician did a fabulous job with the way jey moaned, rubbing his clothed length up her bare ass. she knew better than to move. daddy loved her in those tall heels, but she knew she should let him do the work; he always made sure she was extra floaty and soft to where her legs shook from how hard he railed her.

her nails were a glossy brown-pink, extending her nails to beautiful lengths and hands to precious uselessness. he liked it that way—making sure she couldn’t do anything without him. she liked it that way, too. she adored when jey maneuvered her as he saw fit.

she mewled when she felt him sliding that hard length of his against her dripping slit. “shit,” he groaned with agonizing want as he tapped it against her sensitive clit, “how long have you been this fucking wet for me, baby?”

her voice was dreamy as she moaned, pristinely suspended against the glass, “since the show, daddy. since i saw you win the title.”

through the foggy reflection of glass, she saw his smirk at his ability to reduce her to a sopping mess with just a belt; that belt glinted against the warm, minimal lighting of the hotel suite. yet, her attention came back to jey when he smacked her pussy lips with his heavy shaft again, the lewd sound earning a moan from her, a silent demand to do it again and again.

“you want daddy to fuck you, baby?” he rasped in her ear, making her shiver and squirm. he smacked her ass to keep her still, and she obeyed and followed.

she moaned with need, her slick dripping all over his shaft and tip in a drooling mess, “please, daddy. please use me!”

she didn’t have to look in the mirror to see that feral smirk, the smirk earned after making the ring general himself tap out. she had said exactly what he wanted to hear, and jey was going to reward her for it. generously, she considered, as his fat tip breached past her sopping slit.

“fuck,” they moaned in unison, jey’s grip on her wrists punishing and reducing her vocabulary to an amalgam of wanton preens and squeals, his body pressing her deeper into the frigid glass and pebbling her nipples. and it was certainly a herculean task attempting to stay that precious doll-like still he craved, given she was wearing his favorite stilettos that always left her precariously on the edge of pleasure and pain.

jey growled as she mewled hungrily, gummy walls overflowing with slick that continued to spurt and gush and squelch with each of his thrusts inward. “oh, you’re so fucking deep, daddy,” she crowed in lascivious fashion, so fucking needy for him after seeing him do what he did best in the ring.

he was cocky in his response—he had every right to be, even before this win. he chose to build this relationship with her, spoiled her the way only he could, with pretty jewelry, credit cards, romantic gestures, and mind-blowing sex. he was definitely more understanding, more adoring than most men in her life. he let her mind wander and float, and didn't seem to mind her innumerable moments of airheadedness. he just got her to still, to focus that attention on where it was relevant.

him.

“c’mon, baby,” he grunted between heavy thrusts, “want my babydoll to make a mess, you can do that, right?” she couldn’t even formulate a proper response, the tip of his length brutalizing her insides with relish.

a garbled sound of confirmation scratched past her lips as he touched her inside just right that had her screaming. her breath fogged the window and her gushing release stained the glass with wild fervor, much to his satisfaction. “that’s it,” jey growled with carnal delight, continuing those feverish, visceral rutting until he burst.

“shit!” she cried, her knees buckling and trembling in those unwieldy stiletto heels and her equally unwieldy nails scrabbling for any purchase she could as he filled her up. deeply, wholly, primally. he growled when he stuffed her full of cum and warmed her insides with heat.

jey maintained pressing her up into the window as he settled, giving her doting kisses to the back of her head with each stuttering piston, praise heavy in his soft mouth. “such a pretty doll for me. all mine.”

“all yours, daddy,” she murmured back in echo, head floaty and dazed when he pulled out of her cunt, some of their combined releases trickling down her thighs and onto the floor. in that same vein, she barely registered how he effortlessly lifted her into his arms to drag her to the lavish, lush mattress, placing her in between his legs with her own widely spread. she looked at their reflections in the massive mirror—how her exposed pussy dripped with cum and still eked more like it always did with him. he loved her that way, all soft and leaking and sugary with want. his behemoth hands rubbed circles on her abdomen, lips affixed to her hands and fingers with obsession. she couldn’t deny him that, given that the nails were mostly for his benefit.

his voice rasped in her ear, eyes meeting hers through the mirror, “i got you something, babydoll.”

a gasp fell from her lips in utmost awe when he let go of her wrists, letting her limbs softly plop to the bed before presenting it with a wrap around her neck. “i thought you deserved something beautiful to match my belt, yeah? for being the most perfect babydoll in the world.”

a choker. cartier. custom-ordered. diamond encrusted. expensive. and stunning.

her eyes were teary as she cooed, “thank you, daddy! it’s so so pretty! thank you, thank you, thank you!”

his smile was warm and doting, content to spoil her as he admired the new jewelry on her neck. “i’m glad you like it, sweetheart,” jey crooned, voice dripping like honey when he kissed her on the lips, “now, pretty girl, all i want you to do is focus on the mirror while daddy fucks you again. touch your clit how i like it. wanna see you all pretty and white and soft for me.”

the centerpiece of it all—the real one—was her nails. she daintily pressed those coffin nails to her clit, preciously still as he slid himself back into her depths, with the sweetest, sated smile.

“yes, daddy.”

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